


more than a glamour

by orphan_account



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Dark Past, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Loves Jaskier | Dandelion, Jaskier | Dandelion Has Feelings, Jaskier | Dandelion Loves Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, M/M, Non-Human Jaskier | Dandelion, Witcher Jaskier | Dandelion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-17
Updated: 2020-04-27
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:26:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 35,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23702299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Julian is in hiding. He meets up with Geralt and they have some adventures. When Geralt learns there is more to his bard than meets the eye, will Julian be able to tell Geralt his side of the story before it's too late?ORJaskier is a witcher. Geralt finds out.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 77
Kudos: 327





	1. glamour in posada

It all began in the small town of Tyrael, where our story begins all due to a game of chance, as do most things in this world of magic, beings of all shapes and sizes, quests regarding princesses and dragons, and barrels upon barrels of ale.  
Our story begins in a small hut just outside of said town, with an even smaller being known as Gorrell. He was a dwarf, of sorts. A being which would be overlooked, and not given a second glance by any passerby. With the wiry brown hair and beard down to his calves, he looked like every other dwarf. And that is just, he was normal.  
Drowning in debt, the dwarf sought an escape from his debt-filled life in Tyrael. After overhearing rumors of an evil witch’s hut on the outskirts of the town, he set off to find the magic wielder. Gorrell understood the risks that came with quarreling with powers unbeknownst to him, but with the loan sharks nipping at his ankles, he quickly came to the conclusion that he had little to none left to lose.  
When approaching the hut, one would believe it belonged to a poor farmer or fisherman, certainly not an all powerful mage of dark magic. On Gorrell’s arrival, the witch ushered him in, as if in a hurry. He had begged the witch to fix his debt, bringing up a myriad of strategies.  
"Perchance, could you double, no, triple my luck so I may gamble my way out of debt? Or maybe simply removing the debt collectors from my life? Such tasks would be easy for a powerful being such as yourself,” the dwarf pointed out, trying his best to butter the witch up to the best of his ability, “correct?”  
The witch gave him a pointed glare before proposing her idea.  
“I shall give you power. Power which will have those loan sharks eating out of your hands.”  
“Yes, yes!” Gorrell praised. “What do you wish for in return? I shall give you anything! Anything!”  
“No need. I have but one request. Beat me in a game of cards, and you shall be given the power which you seek. But be warned, if you lose, you will never see the light of day with your eyes again.”  
And so, this brings our dwarf here.  
“You’ve lost, shorty.” The witch chortles, revealing her elongated canines.  
“You cheat! I’ve never lost a game of cards in my life!” Gorrell says.  
"Your debt tells me otherwise. Now, it’s time to pay up.”

Rumors of the witch remained whispers here and there at a tavern or in dark corners of streets. In Tyrael, people disappeared. This was ignored, but it remained an unspoken secret between the residents. Alas, the whispers and hushed words did not get past Julian. The word of the witch outside of town quickly caught the witcher’s ears while gathering provisions for his travels. His eyes widened as he listened more. It had to be the witch he was searching for.  
He needed the sorcerer for desperate needs, and personal needs. The witcher was on the run. A certain griffin witcher was chasing him down to no end, both witchers knew that Julian could not bring himself to kill his pursuer. The witcher’s name was Kaladin. Him and Kal grew up together, trained together, and quickly became friends. But, due to a simple misunderstanding, Kaladin would not rest until Julian was dead.  
As for the personal needs, it was a chance for him to escape his life of monster hunting, and travel the world without the scrutinizing stares following his every move. Julian craved that kind of freedom, that kind of humanity. Just to be treated humane.  
Julian pounds on the door to the witch’s hut. His anticipation causes his fingers to tingle. Freedom and safety was just a few steps away. He’s so close.  
The witch answers swiftly, and guides the witcher in with a pleased look.  
“Whatever can I do for you, young man?”  
“I’m hardly young, but thank you for the compliment.”  
The witch huffs out a laugh, “Could’ve fooled many people, but I see your eyes.”  
“And what do you see in them?” Julian lifts a dark eyebrow.  
“A few centuries, and pain. You have not come to kill me, witcher. You need something from me, desperately.”  
“What makes you think I won’t kill you after you’ve done what I’ve asked? After all, those people aren’t disappearing on their own.”  
“I don’t have a sword to my neck.”  
Julian grins.  
“Smart witch. Now, will you help me?”  
“I’ve no choice. But, first you must do something for me.”  
“Have a ghoul nest causing you trouble?” Julian quipped.  
“A jesting witcher, how strange. No, not everyone needs a monster taken care of. The task is simple: beat me in a game of cards.”  
The witcher eyes the old woman carefully.  
“What’s the catch?” He asks, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed.  
“Straight to the point, naturally. If you lose, you die.”  
“You don’t exactly mince words either. Fine, I accept.” He sneers.  
“Wonderful.” The witch grins at Julian.

“You cheat!” The witch snarls. Julian puts his hands up in mock defense.  
“My code forbids it. I would never.” He says gleefully as he dramatically rests his hand at his heart and bows. The witch was seething at this action. The cocky witcher gives her a shit-eating grin before his voice drops, quickly abandoning his dramatic act and now turning dead serious.  
“Now witch, I believe it’s your turn to pay up.” Her smoldering gaze rests on Julian.  
“You knew, you blaggard. Somehow you knew of the curse that binds me. You knew!”  
“Yes, I did. I knew you would be forced to give me what I want if you lost. After that, you will die. But, of course, the latter was but a guess. However, my guess was right judging by your expression. Guess it’s a win-win for me, but a lose-lose for you. Now, help me.” Julian says calmly.  
“Fine.” She spits out through her teeth. “What do you want.” It was a question, but it sounded as if it was a command.  
“A glamour of sorts.” The witch snorts.  
“My life, for a glamour?” She chortles at this. “Couldn’t you’ve gone to some backwater mage instead?”  
“Last time I checked you were a backwater mage.” Julian says sarcastically, earning himself a sharp glare from the witch.  
“But, no. This will be no ordinary glamour. I need to hide more than just my appearance.”  
“Whatever would you want to hide other than that? Your swords?”  
“No, I need it to disguise my biology. Or, my witchery-ness. You know, the slow heartbeat, the scent, the whole shabang. Make me seem human.”  
“Why on earth would you want-” Julian smashes his fist onto the table in front of the witch.  
“I don’t need to explain myself to you. All you need to know are the requirements for the spell. Understand?” He demands without meeting the witch’s eyes.  
“How can you be so sure that I am even capable of such an enchantment?”  
“I heard something from an elven birdie.” He says, trailing his eyes back to the witch.  
“Filavandrel aén Fidháil.” The witch murmurs under her breath. “That bastard sold me out.” Julian stands to attention.  
“Enough moping, get to work.” Julian gestures towards the witch.  
“I’ll need something to enchant, a trinket or sorts or accessory.” Julian reaches into his satchel and pulls out a simple chain necklace.  
“Will this do?”  
“Perfectly.”

Julian leaves the hut satisfied. He heaves himself onto his mount and starts off on the road. Behind him, he hears the witch screech like a banshee into the night. The curse had taken her life. Julian felt no remorse as he continued on his way to his newest destination; Posada. 

Julian inhales sharply before dropping the cool, chain necklace around his neck. He shivers as he leans against the table inside his room he had rented a few minutes prior. Julian looks up at his reflection in the mirror and chokes back a sob. His face was no longer scarred. The scar that had stretched from his left ear to the bridge of his nose was gone. His eyes widened. The burns that ran up the right side of his neck, stopping just under his jaw, and destroying the skin all the way down to his collar bone- was gone. He rips off his shirt and examines his chest. No marred skin. No burns. Just smooth, unharmed skin. The glamour hadn’t changed his muscular physique he had gained from his life as a witcher, he had not thought of it. He quickly cursed himself for leaving out such a small detail, but his attention was quickly brought to his eyes. Gasping, he gazes into his eyes. They were no longer a beastly gold with slit pupils, but rather cornflower blue with rounded pupils.  
Julian felt as if he couldn’t breathe. The room spun around him. He was finally normal. He had escaped. Kal could no longer track him down. He was human. He was normal. He was… he needed a new name. An identity. His mind flew back to the flowers which his mother had loved. Jaskier. His name is Jaskier now. Jaskier the… bard. No one would suspect a bard. Julian had to hurt his pride for his safety, but a bard did not sound that bad.  
Julian, or now Jaskier, gathers up his new attire. It was a basic outfit, a light blue doublet with beige trousers. Simple enough. His griffin armor, swords, crossbow, and other items were all hidden away in a bunker he had found years back.  
Jaskier storms out of the inn, ignoring the questioning looks. He spotted a bard to his left, he was playing a lute. He runs up to the bard.  
“Please, friend! I was robbed!” Jaskier lies easily between his teeth. “I’ll have no livelihood now! I’ll die of hunger by the road! If only I had a lute! I would be saved! Bard to bard,” Jaskier rests his hand on the man’s shoulder and leans in, “without that instrument I will die, please.” He begs. The bard looks dumbfounded at the sudden onslaught.  
“I- erm, surely there is another way to help you-”  
“I am but a lowly bard, I shall pay you back someday. I swear it.” Jaskier pleads.  
“I guess I could spare the lute-”  
“Thank you good sir!” Jaskier grins up at the man. “I swear to repay you. If our paths cross again.” He says the last part under his breath so the man doesn’t hear. Jaskier mounts his gray horse, Pegasus, who is no longer sporting a wyvern head, and rides away, lute on his back.  
He was less than a day's ride to Posada. There, he would start singing ballads and epic tales. Jaskier grins madly. Who would have guessed this would have been so exhilarating? 

He had reached Posada earlier than expected. Jaskier had never felt so alive. He hesitantly pushed open the door of the tavern. No heads turned. He breathed out a sigh of relief and approached the innkeep.  
“I’m looking to make some coin.” He said seriously. The innkeep raised a brow at that.  
Now that did not sound like something a bard would say. Jaskier thought in the back of his mind. He cleared his throat before clarifying.  
“I could sing here, gather a crowd, and I’ll keep any money or food thrown at me and, on top of that, a free meal while you get more business. How does that sound?”  
“Hm, fine. Just don’t gather any unwanted attention.”  
“Unwanted?” The innkeep gestured towards a man in the back of the room, sitting at a table alone. A witcher. Not just any witcher, the white hair was a dead give away.  
“Geralt of Rivia.” Jaskier breathed out.  
“You know him?”  
“Oh,” Jaskier regained his composure, “just rumors here and there.”  
The innkeeper leaned closer to Jaskier. “They call him the Butcher of Blaviken, and for good reason, too. Simple folk like us should keep away from his kind.” Jaskier was uncertain how to take the innkeeper's remark. Being referred to as ‘simple folk’ was a blessing to his ears, but ‘his folk’ sat uncomfortably with him. The White Wolf desperately needed an image change.  
So he did just that. Even though he got punched in the gut, rejected many, many times, and now is following happily behind Geralt like a lost puppy, he was still fixed on, well, fixing the witcher’s image.  
Geralt took a contract on a rumored Devil. So, Jaskier followed.  
“So, what exactly are you searching for?”  
“Blessed silence.”  
“Right, well you're as witty as ever.”  
“Shut up, bard.”  
“Well now that’s rude-”  
Geralt clamped his hand over Jaskier’s mouth before he could finish his sentence. Jaskier would be lying if he wasn’t the least bit tempted to bite his hand. He resisted the urge because he heard what had caused Geralt to stop: there was something watching them from the bushes. A stone flew out from where the sound came from and barely missed Geralt’s face.  
The last thing Jaskier remembered was Geralt drawing his silver sword before a rock smacked into his head. 

Jaskier woke up to finding himself tied up. It wasn't the first time he’d woken up like this, but that situation was much more preferable. He was seated back to back with Geralt, who had just headbutted an elf. Jaskier caught on the situation quickly.  
“Jesus, Geralt! She’s sick!” Geralt eyed him quizzically before turning his attention to the person walking into the room. Jaskier’s mouth went dry. It was the elf king, Filavandrel.  
The elf gasped when he met Jaskier’s eyes. Jaskier quickly switched to Elder, clearing up the situation before his cover was blown.  
“I met the witch.” Filavandrel tensed up, then opened his mouth.  
“You can’t run forever, witcher. Sooner or later, he will find you. No curse will save you then. I hope you know what you are doing.” Jaskier paused at this.  
“What curse? It’s just a glamour.”  
“I warned you about the witch, not recommended her. I would be wary of removing the curse, I fear the worst for you. You could meet the same fate as her.” The self-proclaimed bard felt a cold sweat down his back before returning to the topic at hand.  
“Let us go, Geralt could’ve killed Torque, I’m glad he did not, but he is no harm to you. You should be rebuilding, getting stronger.”  
“... I suppose you are right.”  
The elf walked over to them and cut the rope. Jaskier nodded in appreciation. He looked over to Geralt who was boring holes into the back of his head. It was beyond uncomfortable. Jaskier knew he messed up. He should’ve visited Filavandrel beforehand, but how would he know that he would run into him, and so soon at that. Jaskier fiddled with his hands nervously.  
Was the gig up? Do I need to continue running instead? Will I ever find peace in my life? Jaskier asks in his head.  
Once the pair was far enough from the caverns, Geralt stopped.  
Jaskier gulped. “Why did you stop? Adventure awaits?” He said as calmly as possible, but his voice cracked and he sounded confused.  
“Who are you?” Geralt growled, his golden eyes met Jaskier’s baby blue eyes.  
Jaskier found himself focused on other things. His eyes are...  
“...Absolutely gorgeous.” Jaskier said under his breath before catching himself.  
“What.” Geralt demanded.  
“Err- I mean, I-” Jaskier says, flustered beyond belief. He must’ve looked like a bright red tomato. Jaskier cleared his throat.  
“My name is Jaskier, although I believe you already know this from the first 20 times I’ve informed you on this.”  
“What did you say to Filavandrel? I heard something about a curse.”  
“Used only metaphorically, my friend. Nothing you should concern yourself with.” Jaskier lied easily. “And, all you need to know is that I saved our arses-”  
In an instant, Geralt was nose to nose to him and clamping his huge hand around Jaskier’s neck. His breath left his lungs as soon as Jaskier knew what was happening. Jaskier’s heart was banging against his ribcage. His body went slack against Geralt.  
“Mmf-”  
“All I need to know is what the fuck you said back there before I kill you, Jaskier.”  
Right there, Jaskier decided that if Geralt choked him to death with those god-like hands and giant arms he would thank him. Jaskier's thoughts were jumbled.  
Holy shit, at least I’ll die happy. If he says my name again in that deep voice of his I think I’ll have a problem down south. This is definitely a new kink of mine. Jesus, this is so hot-  
Geralt’s grip tightened.  
Okay maybe not so hot anymore- Jaskier panicked in his head.  
“Last warning.”  
Jaskier began slapping on Geralt’s arm. Geralt instantly released him before he could do any damage.  
“Lebioda, okay.” Jaskier gagged out. “I’ll tell you whatever you want.”  
“How do you know him?”  
“I don’t.” Jaskier insisted, keeping his voice even and leveling his eyes with Geralt’s. Geralt huffed out in annoyance, before turning around to heave himself onto Roach.  
“Fuck off, bard. I don’t have the patience to deal with you.” Jaskier looked at him appalled.  
“Excuse me, princess!” Jaskier said dramatically as he hopped onto Pegasus and followed the witcher. In front of him, Geralt’s lips twitched up in a small smile.  
“You need a nap!” Jaskier remarked. Geralt made no move to comment on the bard’s complaining, so Jaskier decided that he was, once again, doing most of the talking this time.  
Jaskier laughs silently, a small smile playing at his lips.  
“What.” Geralt said. If Jaskier heard correctly, the witcher sounded amused.  
Small victories. Jaskier thought happily.  
“Oh, nothing nothing.” He acts exactly as Vesemir described. He thought gleefully. The pair continued on their journey, soon to encounter a djinn, a healer, and a mage who liked orgies a little too much.


	2. banquets and banter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> you know how i said there wouldn't be angst in the story summary?
> 
> i couldn't help myself so i added a lil bit of angst and a whole lot of sexual tension

Geralt had decided to set up camp in the forest. They were travelling East together. Even though he would never admit it aloud, Geralt appreciated the bard’s company. Life on the Path was silent and lonely. Having company never hurt. Right now Jaskier was reclining against a tree, looking complacent as ever. Geralt poked at the fire while the bard strummed his lute. It would be peaceful if the bard was not strumming such a sad song. It didn’t sit right with Geralt. Then again, a lot of things about the bard didn’t sit right with him. His flawless elder speech, his almost certain infatuation with the elf king, and, strangely enough, how comfortable he was around Geralt. After being kidnapped by the elves, Geralt believed that him threatening the bard would scare off Jaskier, but it only made the bard talk more and be more friendly. In addition, he did not smell of fear with the elves nor when Geralt could’ve easily snapped his neck in two. He seemed calm. As if he knew he wouldn’t be killed.  
Geralt came to the conclusion that the bard was either stupidly brave, or hiding something from him.  
“Why such a sad song?” Jaskier looked up at the sudden attention the witcher decided to give him. Just like a lost puppy. Geralt thought to himself.  
“Really? Does it sound sad? It was supposed to be more hopeful, but I guess the two emotions are quite similar.”  
“How?” Jaskier was surprised- no, baffled. That would be five whole words in one day, and it didn’t consist of ‘shut’ or ‘up’ or ‘bard’.  
“Well, normally when you are sad about something you’ll need to be able to believe in something to get out of that sadness. That’s where hope normally comes from.”  
“Hm.” And with that, Geralt doused the fire. He leaned against the tree behind him and let himself be consumed by sleep.  
Jaskier placed his hand over the lute strings to silence the music. The chain around his neck felt heavy. What the hell did that witch curse me with? Jaskier pondered. He needed to have someone look at what exactly the curse is. There were bound to be little tricks here and there that came along with his glamour other than the possible death Jaskier could encounter when the curse was lifted.  
A few raindrops began to fall from the sky.  
It was a light drizzle, but it was enough to annoy Jaksier. He stood up, deciding to refill the waterskins before dawn. After taking one step towards the saddlebags, Geralt shifted in his sleep. He would have to stealthily make his way over without waking the sleeping witcher.  
Jaskier frowned. It almost reminded him of his final Trial, where he had to activate his medaillen to be able to set off on the Path. He had been the only boy to return from his group, the others woke the dragon and were eaten alive while Jaskier escaped with his life. It’s been centuries since that time. It didn’t take long, just because he didn’t look like it, he was still a witcher. He reached in the saddlebags to retrieve the wasterskins. Pausing, he reached into a seperate compartment hidden in his satchel. Between the cloth, two silver daggers were pressed flush against the bag, hidden from sight. Jaskier slipped the two weapons into his boots before leaving the makeshift camp. He recalled a river not too far from where they were.  
The night was cool, the full moon shined brightly through the trees. As Jaskier approached the river, he silently prayed the rain would end before returning to the road at dawn. He hated traveling in a downpour.  
The river was beautiful. He kneeled down and started to fill the waterskins. Jaskier spotted his reflection from the corner of his eye. His eyes widened in fear and his jaw dropped.  
The droplets on his face acted like portals to another world, beyond the streaks of water on Jaskier’s face he could see the marred flesh underneath. He stumbled backwards, dropping the waterskins at his feet. Gritting his teeth, Jaskier dunks the containers into the water and starts off towards camp.  
That fucking witch. Jaskier scolded himself for being so trusting. Because of his foolishness, his safety was on the line because of water. It was almost unbelievable. Water nullified his glamour. 

“...and he died.”  
“Eh, he’s fine.” Jaskier said dismissively.  
“Listen here, I was there-” The tavern door slammed open, revealing a very alive witcher drenched in Selkimore guts.  
Definitely Selkimore guts. Run-ins with those bastards are not fun ones. Thought Jaskier, cringing from the smell.  
Geralt walked towards the man talking to Jaskier. The crowd in the tavern quickly dispersed, making way for the monster slayer.  
“My coin.” The man drops a heavy coin pouch into the witcher’s hand. Jaskier grinned, and began to sing ‘Toss a Coin’, while the man amongst others joined in. Geralt made an annoyed sound and stalked off towards the counter, paying for an ale. Jaskier took the opportunity to strike up a conversation.  
He was planning to attend a ball in Cintra. Why? Well, why not? He needed a way to enhance his image so the songs about Geralt's deeds will reach more ears.  
“You know, I’ve made you famous.” Geralt only grunted in response, so Jaksier took this as a sign to continue. “I should be collecting at least ten percent of your coin, but instead all I’m asking for is a teeny tiny favor.”  
“Fuck off, bard.” The witcher started to walk up to their room.  
“I am not fucking off. Food women and wine, Geralt.” Jaskier called out after him. Geralt stopped. “I better not regret this.” Jaskier beamed at him.  
“Oh, you won’t my friend!”  
“Not your friend.”

Jaskier didn’t know what he did to find himself in this situation, but he was certainly not complaining. A few feet away from him was a very naked, sexy witcher who was bathing. Jaskier could barely breathe right when he walked into the room.  
I think I died and went to heaven. Jaskier concluded. After checking his pulse that was a little too fast to be hetrosexual, he thanked Lebioda that this wasn’t a dream.  
“Tonight, you are not going as a witcher.” Jaskier announced. Geralt glared at him.  
“Is that viscera in your hair- No matter, a little soap and water and you’ll be as good as new!”  
“Don’t even think about it.” Geralt growled, but the bard had already rolled up his sleeves, revealing muscular arms, and kneeled down beside Geralt. He began to pick out the guts and blood in his white hair. Geralt watched Jaskier’s face carefully. It was completely unbothered as if he’s done this thousands of times before. Geralt had to admit, it felt nice to be treated with such care. Jaskier’s fingers were gentle with Geralt’s hair, carefully unknotting it and rinsing it off. Geralt felt his lips twitch up, forming a small smile. If it was anyone else, they would be dead. But with Jaskier, for some weird reason, he felt at ease, safe even, when he was around.  
“How long has it been since you bathed properly? I’m surprised no one has kicked you out of taverns just due to your stench. You smell of death, dear friend.”  
“Thanks.” Jaskier laughed at this. It made Geralt’s chest feel warm and fuzzy. He quickly brought the feeling down.  
“You have such a weird sense of humor, you know? There is something endearing about it. To be honest, I adore it.” The bard dipped his hands in the water, rinsing off the blood and guts. Jaskier’s shirt wasn’t laced up properly, allowing a generous amount of skin to show. Geralt had realized earlier that the bard had some muscle, but when the bard leaned over to grab some soap resting on the other side of the tub, Geralt felt his mouth go dry. Jaskier’s necklace and shirt sagged down revealing his physique. The bard was ripped. His body was in incredible shape. His muscles resembled Geralts, but were much more lean and his waist was slimer than Geralt’s. Geralt let his mind go as he imagined gripping Jaskier’s waist and shoving him against the wall, right here, right now. He gulped as he clenched and unclenched his fists that rested at the sides of the tub.  
I shouldn’t be thinking of him like this. Geralt scolded himself in his head.  
The feeling came back, but before he could give Jaskier the cold shoulder and ignore his growing feelings for the bard, something caught his eye. Geralt’s eyes locked on Jaskier’s hands and arms. They were littered with scars, burns, and something that resembled a bite mark. His mouth went agape when his gaze landed on a few of the larger ones that disappeared under his white shirt. Geralt had never noticed the scars before. No, I would’ve noticed them. They aren’t new either, they must be decades old. Has he been using some sort of magic to cover them up? Maybe makeup? A glamour? Questions swirled around in Geralt's head. Jaskier moved his hands back up to Geralt’s hair.  
“Jaskier…”  
“Hmm?” Jaskier hummed.  
“What happened to your arms?” The gentle caresses stopped. It was dead silent. Geralt could hear Jaskier’s frantic heartbeat in his chest. I knew it, he was hiding something. Geralt thought.  
“Jas?” Jaskier stood up to leave but Geralt grabbed his wrist. Geralt’s hand felt strong but so gentle on the bard’s wrist, as if he was afraid of breaking him.  
“You should finish up here. I think I need an ale.” Geralt released Jaskier. The silence was unbearable. Geralt watched carefully as Jaskier grabbed a towel and frantically began to wash off the water. He watched in amazement as the marred skin slowly disappeared, replacing the scars and burns with smooth, unharmed flesh. Jaskier unrolled his sleeves and walked out of sight. Geralt heard the door shut, and he let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding in.  
What the hell, Jas? Wait, Jas? Since when did I start giving him a nickname? Geralt thought. He covered his face with his hand in dismay. He could not deny that Jaskier had grown on him during their travels. Maybe a little more than that, even. Okay, a lot more. Geralt had decided already that he would go to hell and back for the bard, but, then again, he would never admit it out loud; especially within earshot of Jaskier. Geralt would never hear the end of it.  
A frightening thought entered Geralt’s head.  
Does he not trust me? He quickly pushed that thought away. He couldn’t bear to think of that. Geralt sank deeper into the lukewarm water, now slightly depressed.  
Suddenly, he remembered something.  
Where the fuck are my clothes?

Jaskier finished his ale in a few gulps. He needed to calm down.  
Geralt didn’t see anything important. I’ll play it off, saying that I have a few scars so I use a glamour to cover them up. People like a pretty bard, anyways. That should be believable enough.  
He ran through the events of earlier in his mind. It irked Jaskier that he couldn’t decipher the emotion that was on Geralt’s face. It was an amalgam of shock and something else he couldn’t rightly name.  
Stupid, stony faced witcher. He thought angrily. Chances are, with Geralt’s social constipation, he wouldn’t bring it up unless Jaskier slipped up again. With that in mind, Jaskier would need to take extra precautions. He wasn’t thinking straight. Quite literally.  
Jaskier quickly gathered himself back up and made his way back to the room. When he opened the door he practically whined needily, but forced the sound to come out in a weird, gurgled noise. Geralt was leaning against the wall in nothing but a towel. His hair was washed and dry but water droplets ran down his abs and disappeared under the towel. Jaskier never thought that he would be jealous of liquid, but here he was. Geralt’s arms were crossed. He was clearly not pleased.  
“Honey, I’m home-”  
“Where the fuck are my clothes, Jas?” Jaskier could already feel his pants growing uncomfortably tight with the sight alone, but that nickname made his knees almost buckle out underneath him.  
“Where are they?” Geralt repeated, clearly not in the mood for jests.  
“I- erm.” Geralt made Jaskier weak. Jaskier cleared his throat before continuing. Geralt raised a dark eyebrow at him. The bard’s throat was dry, his face felt like it was on fire.  
“Y-yes. Right. Clothes. They are being washed. I have another pair for you over here.” Jaskier mumbled hurriedly as he stumbled into the room, closing the door behind him with his foot. He shuffled over to a pile of clothes on the desk by the bed. Jaskier picked up the clothes, but before he could turn around Geralt appeared behind him. The white-haired witcher was pushed flush against the smaller man. Geralt placed both of his hands on the desk in front of Jaskier, trapping the bard in place. Jaskier held his breath. He could feel Geralt’s hot breath on his ear.  
“Thanks.” Geralt said in a deep, husky voice by his ear. His voice made Jaskier melt. Geralt took the clothes from his arms with one hand, while the other brushed against Jaskier’s waist. When Geralt left him, Jaskier felt as if his lungs had been ripped out. The bard let out a shuddering breath. Just when he was about to turn around, he heard a towel drop. Jaskier’s eyes widened. If his face wasn’t a tomato earlier, then it most definitely is one now. Jaskier leaned heavily against the desk in front of him with one hand, while he brought the other to cover up his burning face. He stayed put, he would collapse if he took one step. He prayed that his legs weren’t shaking as much as his hands. Geralt smirked wolfishly at Jaskier’s state. He decided not to tease the bard anymore, for now. He didn’t mind that he was still turned around, it gave the witcher a nice view of the bard’s ass. Geralt quickly got dressed, letting the bard breathe. Jaskier deemed it safe to turn around again after a few minutes.  
Jaskier let out a shuddering breath of relief when he saw a fully clothed witcher. Geralt’s face was once again as stoic as ever, but his eyes seemed almost mischievous.  
Geralt walked up to him and placed a firm hand on his shoulder. He leaned in.  
“Time we’re off, Jas.” Geralt used the nickname on purpose.  
He is going to kill me, I swear. Jaskier cried in his head. 

The ball was wonderful. Even though Jaksier had a hard time ignoring the witcher’s eyes boring into the back of his head, he made quite a bit of coin. Everything was going wonderfully until it wasn’t. Pavetta, the princess of the castle, loved Dundy, a man inflicted by a curse. Queen Calthanthe ordered Dundy to be killed. The room was quickly filled with battle. Jaskier ran to protect Dundy, with Geralt following his tail.  
Jaskier ducks under a sword and kicks the man in the chest, knocking him to the ground. The man’s sword drops from his grasp, so Jaskier grabbed it, flicking it around his wrist once before parrying an attack with inhuman speed. Geralt followed his lead. The two soon stood side by side with Dundy, protecting him from the onslaught. Jaskier felt the adrenaline rushing through his veins as he whirls the sword through the air.  
Has it really been so long? Jaskier wondered in his head.  
The Queen quickly put an end to the battle, but only to try and kill Dundy. Before that could happen, Pavetta let out a scream.  
A strong gust of wind caused by the princess was blowing throughout the castle, flipping tables and blowing people into walls. Dundy and Pavetta were in the middle of it all, chanting in Elder while floating in the air. Jaskier was pressed against a pillar, slowly pushing off of it. He could barely keep his footing as the strong wind pushes against him, muffling almost all sounds and making it near impossible for normal people to move even in the slightest. Jaskier was not a normal person.  
Geralt watches Jaskier as he pushes forward, he was just a few steps from the couple. He stopped, and looked up at the princess. The princess met his eyes.  
“No one is going to hurt you or Dundy. Now please, stop this all before someone gets hurt.” Jaksier pleads Pavetta.  
Geralt was close behind Jaskier, about to cast Aard. Jaskier held out his hand in front of Geralt before he could.  
“There is no need.” Jaskier was right. The winds soon slow down and the couple returns to the ground. Geralt watched Jaskier with questioning eyes. Calthanthe ran to her daughter.  
“I thought your grandmother’s gift had skipped you, as it did me.”  
Pavetta and Dundy were wed later that night.  
“Well this ended quite nicely. This will be my best ballad yet!” Jaskier says excitedly.  
“Hm. Back when they attacked Dundy, never saw you show an interest in swords, much less have the hand of an experienced swordsman. A very experienced swordsman at that. Where the hell did you pick up skills like those?” Geralt questioned the bard.  
“Ah, yes,” Jaskier quickly thought of a lie, “I did study in Oxenfurt for a while. I learned many things there. Swordplay was among those things.”  
“Did Oxenfurt also teach you Elder?”  
“Bits and pieces, I practiced the language over the years and soon became fairly good.”  
“Fairly good is an understatement.”  
“Is that a compliment? My, Geralt, one would think you have a soft spot for me!”  
I do. Geralt thought as he frowned.  
“Well,” Jaskier said, “I believe it’s time for us to take our leave.”  
Geralt nodded in agreement.  
“Wait! You two saved my life! What do you want in return?” Dundy called after the two before they could leave. They turn around to answer.  
“We want nothing.” Geralt said, and Jaskier went along with it.  
“I must give you something!”  
Geralt opened his mouth to claim the Law of Surprise, but Jaskier beat him to it.  
“We claim the tradition as you have, the Law of Surprise!”  
Geralt’s eyes shot over to Jaskier. Pavetta vomits on the floor.  
“What have you done?!” The Queen yells.  
“Fuck.” Geralt says.  
“Fuck indeed.” Jaskier adds.  
The two were kicked out of Cintra, and were threatened to be thrown into the dungeons if they were to show their faces there again.

“Now that, my friend, was an adventure!”  
“We were chased out of a palace and threatened to be drawn and quartered if we ever showed our faces there again. I would hardly call that an adventure.” Geralt deadpanned while mixing a myriad of herbs and oil. Jaskier instantly recognized the oil. Draconid oil.  
Geralt had recently taken up a contract on a forktail prowling the area, stealing the sheep from the village and sometimes the occasional sheep herder. A poor farmer had begged Geralt to take the contract in exchange for seventy crowns. Jaskier, feeling pity for the man, would have said yes instantly to the insufficient amount, but Geralt, of course, haggled for ninety-five crowns. The desperate farmer accepted.  
Jaskier was happy that Geralt had finally opened up to him more. Instead of the occasional grunt to tell Jaskier he was still alive, he would get responses and could even exchange playful banter with the canterokous witcher. If someone told Jaskier when he first met the witcher that Geralt would have regular conversations with the bard, Jaskier would’ve laughed at them and called them barmy. But, now things like that seem to naturally fall into place, and Jaskier loved it.  
The bard scoots closer to Geralt, looking over his shoulder at the Draconid oil he was making. The witcher paid no mind to it, and continued working. Jaskier looked thoughtfully at the mixture before scowling. The witcher raised an eyebrow, and looked at Jaskier.  
“Something not to your liking?” Geralt inquired, sounding amused.  
“Yes, very much so.” Jaskier pouted.  
“What?”  
“The oil isn’t very potent. If I were you, I’d take what you have there and add alchemy paste, nostrix, bryonia, albedo, a cockatrice stomach, and a nekker warrior’s liver.”  
Geralt was impressed.  
“Afraid I don’t have a cockatrice stomach and a nekker warrior’s liver at the ready.”  
“I’d hope not.” Jaskier said honestly.  
“You’ve dabbled in alchemy?”  
“A little here, a little there.” Jaskier said dismissively before turning his back to Geralt and leaning against the witcher’s shoulder.  
“Oxenfurt teach you that too?”  
“Teach me what?”  
“How to be an insufferable jackass when it comes to avoiding questions?”  
Jaskier turned his head and gave a lopsided grin that did things to Geralt’s heart.  
“No, silly. I learned that from the best.”  
“And who would that be?” Geralt said, locking eyes with Jaskier.  
“You, naturally. The master of avoidance.” Jaskier leveled his gaze with Geralt’s.  
The air was thick and hard to breathe. Geralt’s eyes drifted down to Jaskier’s lips, then trailed back to Jaskier’s cornflower blue eyes, as if asking for permission. Biting his lip, Jaskier abandoned all logic and reason and nodded needily. The Draconid oil was long forgotten at Geralt’s side. The witcher gripped Jaskier’s waist and brought him into his lap. Jaskier smashed his lips into Geralt’s, savoring the sweet taste. The bard wrapped his arms around his neck to deepen the kiss. Geralt snaked his hands under Jaskier’s undershirt and ran his hands down his chest, abs and then stopped at his trousers.  
“Is this okay?” Geralt asked.  
Jaskier nodded frantically. Geralt grinned wolfishly and hooked his fingers in his tightening trousers.  
Everything was perfect, it was practically a dream come true. Until it started to rain.  
Jaskier felt a drop on his back and instantly pulled away, his lips were swollen and his pupils were blown wide. Geralt wanted to take him right there, but something was wrong.  
“Jas?”  
“Um- I- It would be best if we went to bed, we have a long day on the road tomorrow, afterall.” Jaskier’s heart was yelling at him to take back what he said, and kiss the damn witcher senseless. But his brain knew his glamour would wash away soon and he would rather have Geralt in his life being heartbroken rather than not having him at all.  
Geralt connected the puzzle pieces quickly.  
“Jas, I don’t care if you have a few scars. I need to know that you can trust me.”  
“I-I do, I swear! But-”

He will never forgive you if you tell him the truth.  
He will leave you here alone.  
He will never trust you again.  
He will hate you just as much as Kaladin.

Jaskier listened to his head.  
“I can’t, Geralt.” Jaskier admitted somberly, looking down at his hands. Jaskier stood up and walked over to his makeshift bed. He covered himself, hiding his body from the rain.  
Geralt’s heart twisted and shattered in his chest. It was a new kind of rejection he had never faced before, and it felt like a spear had been stabbed into his chest.

The next morning was beyond uncomfortable. Geralt had already fastened the saddlebags on the horses and filled the waterskins by the time Jaskier awoke. They didn’t meet each other’s eyes as Jaskier packed up his things.  
“I think I’ll head East from here.” Jaskier said silently, he knew Geralt would hear him. Geralt looked down.  
“Hm.” Jaskier felt like crying.  
“I’ll see you around, wolf.” The bard swung his lute around his back before mounting Pegasus.  
Wolf. That hurts. He won’t even look me in the eyes when talking to me. Geralt thought somberly. He told himself that Jaskier would leave him sooner or later, but he didn’t think it would hurt so much.  
“Farewell.” Jaskier’s voice cracked.  
Geralt stayed silent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i've been writing way too much but i fell in love with this story
> 
> comment your thoughts, this was a longer chapter 
> 
> hope you liked it :D
> 
> PS- sorry for updating so late at night lol


	3. djinns, witches, witchers, galore

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> they fuck

Jaskier wandered into a tavern, looking to sing a few jigs and eat his fill. He leaned against the counter and called the innkeeper over.  
“An ale, would you?” Jaskier sighed, pushing a few crowns towards the man. He nodded curtly before fetching the bard a drink.  
Jaskier was broken. He heard a local bard playing a lute and singing one of Jaskier’s song about the white-haired witcher. It made his heart tighten up, threatening to break into a thousand pieces. It was hard for Jaskier, moving on that is. Everywhere he would go he would go, he would be reminded of Geralt. It wasn’t ideal, to say the least.  
The innkeeper returned with Jaskier’s ale. He nodded and downed it.  
“You!” Jaskier turned around at the noise. He was surprised to say the least. He had remembered the bard from when he first tried out the glamour many years ago.  
“Oh, well hello.” Jaskier said.  
“It is you, right? The bard Jaskier?”  
“Yes.”  
“My! I’m thrilled to know my lute is being used for such incredible songs! You don’t need to pay me back, the thought of such an incredible bard using my lute is enough payment as it is!”  
Jaskier felt like shit, the sweet words made him want to vomit. Normally when he heard compliments he would eat them up. He loved them. But right now, it made him feel horrible.  
I don’t deserve these compliments. I’m absolute shit for what I’ve done to Geralt. Jaksier thought as he brought his tankard back up to his lips. Seeing that Jaskier wasn’t about to answer, the bard spoke up.  
“I’ve talked enough, farewell my fellow bard. May our paths cross again.” The bard said cheerfully. “But, before I go,” The bard’s voice dropped, suddenly serious.  
Jaskier sighed, he just wanted to be left alone. “What is it?”  
“The fellow over- oh nevermind, it seems like he left, but he asked me to give you this.” The bard slipped Jaskier a letter under the table.  
“Farewell, now. And take care of yourself.” Jaskier looked quizzically at the bard as he walked out of the tavern.  
Jaskier opened the letter carefully. After reading it three times over, he felt sick to his stomach. He didn’t feel like singing at the tavern anymore.

Julian.  
I know what your personalized curse entitles you to, if I can’t kill you it will surely end your life. Does that witcher you're travelling with even know who you are? Does he know the sins you’ve committed? You're a pest, Julian.  
Meet me by the tower ruins. You know where I'm talking about. Come alone.

-Kaladin

Jaskier ran outside of the tavern, looking around frantically for the bard. He was long gone. Fuck. Jaskier cursed himself.

“I wouldn’t expect her to inflict me with a curse like her own.” Jaskier muttered under his breath.  
The witch he visited had a curse that would kill her if a certain requirement was met. For her, it was if she ever used magic again. For Jaskier, well, he had no idea what his requirement was.

They did meet again. A few weeks after he left, Jaskier found Geralt by a river, fishing. He abandoned his horse a few yards away before approaching the witcher.  
“Geralt of Rivia! My, it’s good to see you, friend!” The bard extended his arms out dramatically. Jaskier felt a pang in his heart at the sight of Geralt. He had dark circles under his eyes and was absolutely restless. He kept throwing the net into the water and quickly retrieving it. Geralt didn’t stop, he didn’t even acknowledge Jaskier’s presence. The bard didn’t blame the witcher, Jaskier believed that he had deserved it.  
“What are you fishing for?” He started to list off all of the fish he knew of.  
“Carp? Is that a fish? I think it is.” Jaskier paused to imitate Geralt, “‘What have you been doing, Jaskier?’” He switched back to his voice, “Why thank you for asking! You see, Geralt, business is slow for me. As a bard, I would normally expect a good, solid income, but you see here I was kicked out of a tavern not too far from here and now I’m barely surviving. Isn’t that fun?”  
“Did you sing for them before they kicked you out?”  
“Yes, but I fail to see what that would have to do with anything-” Jaskier paused and his mouth went agape.  
“Well, excuse me! No, no, no. Geralt, tell me: how’s my singing?” Jaskier demanded. Geralt stopped what he was doing for a mere second to consider what to say before answering and tossing the net back into the river.  
“It’s like ordering a pie and finding out it has no filling.”  
“You-”  
Geralt had enough.  
“I’ve been searching for a djinn in this river for fucking ever, and I haven’t fucking slept!” Geralt roared at the bard. Jaskier took the hint and shut up. The bard fumbled with his hands, unsure of what to do now.  
Should I leave? He probably wants me to leave. Jaskier thought sadly.  
Geralt went back to his work, but this time he pulled up an old jar.  
“Oh, wow. Now isn’t that old and dusty.” Jaskier remarked. Old is an understatement, that thing is older than me, a goddamn relic that’s what it is. Jaskier thought. Geralt lifted the jar up to examine the seal on the lid. Jaskier grabbed the jar from him and looked skeptically at the intricate seal. It was a wizard’s seal, old as hell and dangerous as hell. Geralt tried to rip the jar from Jaskier’s hands, but the bard held his ground.  
“Jaskier, give me the djinn.”  
“No.”  
The two played tug-o-war with the jar before the seal came off with a pop. Jaskier knew that Geralt would wish for something stupid like getting rid of their Child Surprise, so Jaskier began to call out random wishes. Geralt yelled at him to stop, but Jaskier didn’t listen. After two wishes, the djinn attacked.  
A burning pain erupted from Jaskier’s throat.  
“Ge-ral-t.” Jaskier choked out, using Geralt’s shoulder to keep him standing upright. Then the bard passed out.

“Fuck!” Geralt caught Jaskier before he could fall to the ground. A nasty, purple wound was left on Jaskier’s neck.  
Shit! Don’t die! Geralt yelled in his head.  
With the bard in his arms, Geralt ran over to Roach and heaved Jaskier onto the horse. Geralt mounted Roach, with Jaskier in his lap, and rode off into the nearest town.

“Healer! I need a healer!” Geralt yelled. Normally, he would avoid attracting attention, but this was a life or death situation. An elf approached Geralt.  
“Come with me, I may be able to help your friend.” Geralt nodded sharply and dismounted, carrying Jaskier over to the healer’s hut.  
“Sit him down.” The healer gestured towards a table by the door. After doing a once-over on the wounds, the healer gave Geralt a grave look.  
“I’m afraid there is nothing I can do for the curse nor the damage to his throat. Your friend has a very small chance of survival.”  
“Then who can?!” Geralt demanded.  
He mentioned a curse. Same as Filavandrel. Why the hell did Jas quarrel with a witch, and at what cost? Geralt thought grimly. Part of him was afraid of the answer.  
“I am the only healer in the village, there is no one else who can help the bard other than-” The healer cut himself off.  
“Other than who?! I need to know!”  
“Well- erm, there is a witch in a town not too far from here. I heard that the lord by the town captured her and has her in his dungeons.”  
“I guess I’ll have a talk with this lord.”

Jaskier woke up to find no pain in his throat.  
Holy shit, I thought I was done for! Jaskier thought in relief. He looked around and found his celebration of life short-lived.  
“Oh god, what do you want from me, mage?”  
A woman with black hair and wearing a thin robe turned her head towards Jaskier. She had drawn a figure on her stomach.  
“Make your third wish. And no, I cannot help you with that curse of yours. That’s ancient magic, bard. I’ve no idea where the hell you found yourself involved with something so powerful.”  
“I thought as much.”  
"Bard, for your sake I wouldn't take off that necklace of yours if you want to live." So, that's the requirement. Well, I've no intent to do that in the first place. Jaskier thought. “Enough of this. Make a damned wish.”  
“You really shouldn’t try this. You’ll die in the process.” Jaskier gestured towards the djinn seal and marks on her skin. She scowled at him. The mage advanced on Jaskier, who was soon backed up into a wall by the woman. She clasped her hand around Jaskier’s throat. Jaskier gagged.  
“Make the fucking wish already!”  
“I-I don’t have the stupid wishes!”  
He formed Aard with his hand and the mage flew back into the wall adjacent to Jaskier. He flew down the stairs, blatantly ignoring the naked nobleman. Jaskier was out of the house in no time, remembering what happened the last time he pissed off a sorcerer.  
Bad choice, bad choice, bad choice. Jaskier yelled inside his head until he felt the sun on his face.  
“Jaskier!” Geralt’s voice sounded heavenly to the bard.  
“Geralt!” He ran up to Geralt. His eyes widened when he saw the marks on Geralt’s arms. Geralt has the wishes. Jaskier realized. The bard grabbed the witcher’s arm and tugged Geralt forward, pushing him in the direction of the house.  
“Make a wish, quick! Or something! She’s going to end up killing herself, she’s trying to become more powerful by becoming the djinn’s vessel! She wouldn’t listen to me now go help her and stop standing there like a stump!”  
Geralt wasted no time and ran inside the house.

The house had collapsed. Jaskier felt a dark pit form in his stomach.  
I should’ve never told him to go back in.  
It’s all my fault.  
He’s dead because of me.  
He wiped a stray tear from his face. He needed to stop crying, his yellow eyes were probably revealed already along with the beginning of a scar.  
I royally fucked up, didn’t I? Geralt and that mage would have still been alive if I just had given up and let Kaladin kill me in the first place. If only I wasn’t so selfish.  
Jaskier began to walk away into the woods. He would retrace his steps and find his horse, then take off the necklace. The curse would kill him, but there was nothing he could do about it.  
“Jaskier!”  
It sounds like Geralt, is my mind already playing tricks on me?  
But no, behind him he heard footsteps. Running footsteps. Jaskier widened his eyes. Those were Geralt’s footsteps, he could never mistake them.  
He’s alive.  
Geralt is alive  
My witcher is alive.  
Jaskier couldn’t help the tears pouring from his eyes. He closed them tight as he heard Geralt get closer.  
“Jaskier…”  
The bard covered his face with his hands as he felt Geralt wrap his big arms around him and bring him into a warm embrace.  
“A-are you really here?” Geralt’s heart felt like it was going to burst when he heard Jaskier speak with such a vulnerable voice.  
“Yes.” Geralt rested his head on top of Jaskier’s head and let him cry into his chest. "I'm here." 

“‘Just friends’ my ass.” Yennefer said behind Geralt. Jaskier had fallen asleep after crying for a while, so Geralt had sat down and placed the bard in his lap. Jaskier’s arms were wrapped around the witcher’s neck as he slept and his legs were curled up comfortably in Geralt’s lap.  
“You’re wrong.”  
“Really?” Yennefer smirked as she saw Jaskier grip onto Geralt’s black shirt. “That looks like a little more than friendship.”  
“Fuck off.”  
“Not to mention that last wish of yours.” Yennefer recalled with a shit-eating grin on her face.  
“Last chance, witch.”  
“You wouldn’t, afterall you wouldn’t dare wake up your sleeping beauty, now would you?” Geralt growed at Yennefer’s remark. The mage scoffed.  
“He’s keeping things from you. I could tell you some of those things, if you want.”  
“No.”  
“That’s surprising. I thought you would jump at this information being handed to you.”  
“I trust his word more than yours.”  
“Oh, I see how it is. Well, until our paths cross again. Farewell, witcher.” Geralt grunted in response. Yennefer opened a portal and left without another word.  
Letting out a sigh of relief, Geralt closed his eyes. He placed a soft kiss on Jaskier’s head.  
“When I left the house, you were nowhere in sight. I thought something happened to you.”  
Geralt’s grip tightened on Jaskier.  
“Please, please, don’t ever scare me like that again.” Geralt whispered against Jaskier’s dark brown hair. 

The fire licked the logs in front of Jaskier, the warmth danced on his fingertips as he warmed his hands. The forest was quiet, far too quiet for comfort.  
Geralt was sitting on a rock a stone toss away from Jaskier, he was using a whetstone on his baldes. They didn’t speak.  
Jaskier felt as if he was a ticking time bomb. He could be revealed at any second. Jaskier knew the best thing for him to do would be to distance himself from the witcher and travel alone, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Jaskier knew he had a problem when it came to getting attached, but if he left now he would feel as if a part of his life would be ripped away. There was no way he could live with himself when he knew he abandoned the witcher.  
The white-haired witcher knew something was wrong.  
He’s not even playing the lute, or writing down new lyrics at the very least. Geralt thought as he kept his gaze locked on the sparks flying from the whetstone as he sharpened his swords. He decided he would need to be the one to initiate a conversation if he wanted to get anything out of the bard.  
“How’s your throat?” Geralt asked. Jaskier didn’t look up from the flames.  
“Fine, a little scratchy, but fine.”  
The two fell back into silence. The wounds from their last encounter were still fresh, very fresh. Trying to talk about it now would be like pouring salt water in the wounds, it would only cause both witchers to hurt more. Jaskier stood up after a few moments, and made his way into the dark forest. Geralt looked up questioningly.  
“Fire’s getting low. I’m going to get more firewood.” Jaskier clarified when he felt the other man’s gaze on him.  
“Hm.” Don’t leave me again. Geralt thought in the back of his head. Against his will, Geralt started to feel a little insecure whenever the bard went off on his own. He was terrified of Jaskier leaving him again, or worse, getting hurt. Geralt knew very well that Jaskier could handle himself when it came to people. But alghouls or endregas were in a whole different league. They didn’t attack nor act like humans and had far more important things to worry about than a simple stab wound that could be bandaged up and forgotten about.  
He stopped dragging the sword against the whetstone and kept his eyes trained on Jaskier until he disappeared from sight.  
Jas is already distant with me, I rather not poke at the bee’s nest. He thought.  
Sighing, Geralt returned to his swords.

Despite what he said, Jaskier had other plans than getting firewood. He was pissed. Beyond that, even. Jaskier knew Kal wasn't a coward, asking him to come alone was smart. Kaladin was confident in his skills, but not to the point where he could face off two armed witchers at once. Kaladin was aware that Geralt was oblivious to Jaskier's past and that Jaskier didn't want him to know, and he was using this to his advantage. Jaskier had two choices: Go alone, Kaladin lives, definitely die, but die knowing Geralt didn't hate him, or, bring Geralt, kill Kaladin, probably die, but die with Geralt hating him.  
Jaskier sighed. He would need time to think about it.

"Two rooms." Jaskier told the innkeeper as he placed a small pouch of coins in front of him. "No can do, we're packed tonight. I can give you one room." He responded without looking up from the tankard he was cleaning.  
"That will be fine. And a bath would be greatly appreciated, as well." Geralt cut in from behind Jaskier.  
Jaskier started to walk off to their room.  
"Not going to sing tonight?" Geralt asked, gesturing towards the lute on Jaskier's back.  
"Shouldn't you be off somewhere cutting monsters into a bunch of little pieces?" Jaskier said sharply, not turning around to look at Geralt.  
Jaskier cursed at himself after the words left his mouth. He was irritated. Beyond that, even.  
That's no excuse to treat him like this. Jaskier yelled at himself in his head. Before he could apologize, Geralt started talking.  
"Yeah. Werewolf." He said curtly. Geralt walked away from Jaskier and made his was towards the tavern door.  
Jaskier whipped around. "Wait!" Jaskier practically yelled after Geralt. He clamped his hand over his mouth, surprised at his actions. Geralt turned his head towards him and raised an eyebrow.  
Jaskier looked down at his feet. "Don't die." He said lamely. Geralt gave him a small smile of reassurance.  
"Not on your life, Jas." Geralt said before walking out the tavern door.  
Lebioda, that's the best I could come up with? 'Don't die'? Jaskier thought.  


Steam filled the room at the inn. The water for the bath came sooner than he had previously thought. Jaskier hummed in a satisfied tone as he sank deeper into the warm water. He could finally have the chance to wash off the swamp water, grime, and mud his body had gathered in the past few weeks. Jaskier ran a hand through his brown locks, pushing the hair out of his eyes. Jaskier started to scrub away some dirt that had found it's way onto his face somehow. Probably from sleeping on the forest floor. He concluded. Another wave of happiness swam through him when he remember the nice, warm bed he had waiting for him in the other room. The second he hit the mattress, Jaskier would probably pass out. Going to an inn was the best idea ever. Jaskier thought happily.  
I could live like this every day. Then again, how much longer can I keep this up? Jaskier frowned. He didn't want to think about his and Geralt's travels ending, it would be a damn shame.  
Jaskier sat up and began washing his hair and scarred body. Geralt was probably finishing up with the werewolf, he had to hurry up and get out before-  
Jaskier's ears perked up at the sound of footsteps outside the tavern. Not just any footsteps. Geralt's footsteps.  
He scrambled out of the tub in an instant, almost tripping over his own feet as he dried off his face and wrapped a towel around his waist. He ran into the room and quickly grabbed his clothes. Jaskier believe he would be home free, that is, until the door opened.  
Geralt froze in the doorway. His black eyes trailed up the scene before him. Jaskier, too, froze. The bard looked like a deer caught in headlights. Jaskier was in the middle of rummaging through his clothes in a thin towel that left nothing to Geralt's imagination. But that wasn't what Geralt was looking at. His burning gaze was locked on the scars and burns that littered Jaskier's body. Jaskier's face was smooth and pristine, but bits of a burn was revealed on his neck.  
His eyes... definitely effects of witcher potions. He looks fucking hot- Jaskier quickly caught off his thoughts.  
Geralt looked down at the towel. The witcher inhaled sharply. "Jas, you're hard."  
"I- Geralt- That's a, erm, dagger. Yes, always at the ready-"  
"Bullshit." Geralt growled as he advanced on the bard. Jaskier yelped as Geralt lifted him up and slammed him into the wall, his pitch black eyes boring into Jaskier. Geralt peppered kisses down Jaskier's neck, pulling moans from the bard. Jaskier gripped onto Geralt's hair as the witcher began to leave hickeys on Jaskier's collarbone.  
"Fuck, Geralt." Jaksier tried to cover his moan, but Geralt bit his ear.  
"No. I want to hear you." Geralt said hotly. Jaskier widened his eyes as Geralt threw him onto the bed.  
Geralt wasted no time and was on the bard in a second. The white-haired witcher kissed Jaskier's scars down his stomach and stopped at the towel. Geralt looked up at Jaskier. The bard cursed out loud.  
"Fucking hell, Geralt, yes! Please, god, get on with it!" Jaskier pleaded. He was painfully hard and couldn't wait any longer.  
He smirked at Jaskier, causing the bard's stomach do flips. Geralt mouthed Jaskier's dick through the thin towel before using his teeth to peel the cloth off o him. Jaskier's legs were trembling with pleasure. Geralt leaned back on his knees to enjoy the view before peeling his shirt off. God, why does he have to be so hot?! Jaskier yelled in his head as he swallowed thickly at the sight.  
Geralt was pure muscle. It wasn't fair that he was so hot. It did things to Jaskier that left him wanting more. Jaskier whined with need.  
Jaskier couldn't believe what he was seeing. Geralt bent over licked Jaskier's dick with his tounge. The bard thought he would cum at just the sight of Geralt bent over his dick. Geralt kept his eyes on Jaskier as he swallowed the bard whole. Jaskier thrust his hips into Geralt's mouth. The witcher held Jaskier's hips down as he sucked Jaskier off.  
"G-Geralt, I'm gonna-" Jaskier was cut off by his moan. Geralt came off Jaskier's dick with a pop.  
"Shit! Spit it out or something!" Geralt grinned at Jaskier and opened his mouth. He swallowed. Jaskier blabbered something that was incoherent.  
"Do you have oil?" Geralt asked, his voice was deeper and sounded rough. Fuck, I'm hard again. The bard thought. Jaskier nodded dumbly as he pointed towards the desk.  
Geralt leaned over Jaskier, opening the desk drawer and searching for oil. Jaskier took the opportunity and started kissing Geralt's neck, sucking on the skin and biting it between his teeth. Geralt chuckled at Jaskier's actions. By the time Geralt retrieved the oil, his neck was littered with bright red hickeys. Jaskier smiled at his work with swollen lips. Geralt leaned in and placed a gentle, loving kiss on Jaskier's lips. Jaskier felt as if he was on Cloud 9. Geralt's kisses were pure ecstasy. Jaskier licked Geralt's bottom lip, asking for entrance. Geralt complied and deepened the kiss.  
Jaskier moaned into the kiss when he felt cool, slick fingers enter him. Geralt lifted Jaskier's hips up while working him open. Jaskier let out little mewls and wrapped his arms around Geralt, begging for more.  
Once Geralt finished prepping Jaskier, he undid his belt and tossed his remaining clothes aside. Jaskier's eyes widened when he saw Geralt's dick.  
"Is that gonna fit?" Jaskier asked, fear lacing his words.  
"One way to find out." Geralt answered simply.  
Geralt poured a generous amount of oil onto his dick and slowly pushed inside Jaskier.  
Jaskier moaned loudly, clenching his fists in Gerlat's hair. The bard threw his head back when Geralt was all the way in. Geralt kissed along Jaskier's jaw before starting to thrust into Jaskier.  
"Fuck-Geralt!" Jaskier moaned as Geralt started to pick up the speed.  
"Faster, god please." Geralt complied.  
Geralt kisses Jaskier deeply, savoring the feel of Jaskier's warm lips against his.  
"Geralt, I'm cumm-" Jaskier came, the white substance stuck to Geralt's abs.  
With one final thrust, Geralt came deep inside of Jaskier. He pulled out a few moments later. Geralt rested his head on Jaskier's shoulder while breathing heavily.  
"That was..." Jaskier started.  
"...the best night of my life." Geralt finished.  
Geralt rolled over to lay by Jaskier. His arms snaked around Jaskier’s waist and pulled him into his chest. Their feet were tangled together under the covers. Jaskier’s face was bright red as it pressed up against Geralt’s bare chest. Jaskier smiled warmly.  
This is nice. Jaskier thought before drifting off in Geralt's warm embrance.  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i feel like the chapter could've turned out better, hope you enjoyed though :)
> 
> comment what you thought, i love hearing from you guys!


	4. a fallen tower

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> bad things happen
> 
> shorter chapter

"Geralt..." Jaskier mumbled, poking Geralt's shoulder.  
"Hm."  
"Geralt we have to get up." Jaskier was sitting up in bed with Geralt's arms locked around his bare waist, half asleep. His face was shoved into Jaskier's side as he drifted off. They had already overstayed their pay at the inn, and needed to leave. Warm sunlight streamed haphazardly into their room, filling up the dark crevasses and stinging Jaskier's eyes.  
"Geralt." Jaskier said sharply, softly punching Geralt when he noticed him falling back asleep.  
"Let's stay another night." Geralt grumbled into the bard's side as he shifted closer to Jaskier. Geralt's voice was rough from sleep.  
"We're broke." Jaskier deadpanned, laughing softly at Geralt's antics.  
Geralt groaned in annoyance.  
"Come, on. We better leave soon before we piss of the innkeeper." Jaskier warned. Unclasping the arms around him, he turned to sit on the side of the bed while he stretched. Geralt sat up behind him and rubbed his eyes while he yawned. Jaskier chuckled at the sight of Geralt. A few stray strands white hair stuck out at random angles. His hair had completely come undone and some longer strands rested in the nape of his neck. He looked so disheveled, it was almost strange for Jaskier to see.  
Oh my god his neck. Jaskier thought smugly. He smiled at the red hickeys all over Geralt's neck.  
"Don't look so smug, Jas. You aren't exactly pristine yourself." The bard smiled knowingly. Geralt wrapped his arms around the bard as he gently placed his lips on Jaskier's neck, softly kissing the hickeys from last night. Jaskier let out a satisfied sigh at the other man's actions. Jaskier closed his eyes and leaned his head back, resting on Geralt's shoulder as he continued kissing up Jaskier's neck.  
"Jaskier." Geralt said in between kisses.  
Jaskier hummed in response.  
"We need to get up." Jaskier's eyes shot open and he sat up.  
"That's what I've been saying, you big oaf!" Jaskier scolded Geralt before scrambling off the bed. The bard's bare feet pattered against the bare floorboards as he ran around hurriedly, quickly throwing on clothes and packing up their things.  
Geralt leaned his back against the headboard and rested his elbows on the top of the headboard. letting his forearms hang lazily off the wooden board. Geralt smirked at Jaskier's actions, thoroughly enjoying the complacent morning,  
I could get used to this. Geralt thought with a smile on his lips.

Jaskier knew Geralt had questions. It irritated him to no end that Geralt wasn't asking said questions. It was strange. Jaskier knew he had to keep a low profile and not be questioned, but with Geralt knowing part of his secret and not even seem bothered by it, it made Jaskier wonder if Geralt would even care that he had been a witcher all this time.  
No, Jaskier thought, he wouldn't care about that. But he would care that I killed another witcher. He would care very much. This stressed the bard out immensely. Jaskier ran a hand through his brown hair.  
Geralt was tracking a slyzard. The bard followed close behind. After begging the witcher to let him tag along for bardic inspiration, Geralt agreed. That is, as long as Jaskier hid when the fighting started. Jaskier rolled his eyes at the unnecessary worry, but complied.  
The forest was full of life, birds sang in the trees, sunlight poured through the thick vegetation, and a nearby stream flowed silently. It was beautiful, yet something sat wrong with Geralt. It was Jaskier. The bard strummed his lute, playing a peaceful melody. But he didn't sing, he looked off into nowhere, thinking deeply about something.  
Geralt didn't understand a lot of things about Jaskier.  
What's the story behind those scars? What even is our relationship? Friends with benefits, or something more? Geralt hoped it was the latter. The bard had forced his way into Geralt's life, and Geralt was thankful for it. Jaskier was dear to Geralt, very dear. He hoped the bard thought the same about him. Things were still unclear between them, neither of them had brought up what happened at the inn.  
Regarding the scars, Geralt knew it was a sensitive topic for Jaskier, but Geralt needed an explanation for them. Geralt wished he would get one soon, millions of possibilities ran through his head about how he had gotten the scars. Geralt didn't like any of them.  
The walk was silent other than Jaskier's playing. It was a comfortable silence, one that they normally found themselves slip into without even noticing. The two walked on, enjoying one another's company before Jaskier decided to strike up conversation.  
He silenced his lute and turned towards Geralt. "This slyzard, tell me about it."  
"This one's young. It was injured by a hunter and escaped. It sought refuge at this river," Geralt nodded at the river a few feet away from them, "and that's all I've gathered, so far." Jaskier placed his lute in his bag, propped it against a tree, and made his way over the the river with Geralt.  
"Leaving it behind?"  
"I'd much rather leave her in the woods than by a slyzard nest."  
Geralt gave him a small smile before crouching down by blood marks left by the slyzard. The blood travels up the river for awhile before another pair of tracks could be seen.  
"Another slyzard," Jaskier said, "it must've came to the other's cries. A mother, most likely." Jaskier examined the prints one last time before nodding. "Yeah, they must've flew off together towards their nest. The young slyzard is still injured, look." Jaskier pointed at a few blood spots that goes further into the woods.  
"You're perceptive." Geralt observed.  
"Is that a compliment? I never thought I'd see the day. Come on Geralt, the trail continues up the mountain. Tally ho!" Jaskier said jokingly, waving his hands around dramatically and following the trail.  
Geralt rolled his eyes, "Lead the way." 

Two slyzard nests came into sight when they reached the top of the mountain, along with two slyzards. The slyzards noticed them in an instant. Fire began to gather in the monster's mouths as they took to the sky.  
"Fuck! Jaskier, get back!"  
Jaskier listened and retreated behind a large boulder. He kept his eyes trained on Geralt. Geralt unsheathed his silver sword. One slyzard spit a fireball at Geralt, Jaskier held he breath as the witcher dodged, barely missing the attack. While he was occupied with one slyzard, the other came up behind him, about to dig it's talons into Geralt's back.  
"Shit! Watch out!" Jaskier yelled, vaulting over the rock with his silver daggers in his hands. Jaskier jumped onto the slyzard's back before it could attack Geralt. The bard yelled out before burying his blades deep into the slyzard's neck. The monster cried out in pain, and fell to the ground with a thud. Blood squirted out from the wound, streaking Jaskier's face with red.  
"What the fuck, Jas?!" Geralt yelled before Jaskier lunged at him, knocking him out of the way of the other slyzard before it could swoop down and attack Geralt.  
"Stop blabbering and help me kill the damn slyzard!" Jaskier said sharpy before turning his attention to the monster. Jaskier dodged an incoming fireball before running up to the slyzard. He slid under the slyzard and slashed it's underbelly. Jaskier rolled out from under the slyzard before he could get guts on him. Geralt ran up from behind the slyzard and thrust his silver sword into it's back.  
The slyzard roared. It staggered for a moment, before collapsing.  
Geralt pulled his sword from the dead beast and walked over to Jaskier. Sheathing his sword, Geralt grabbed Jaskier's wrist.  
"Um, yes?" Jaskier was going to ask what he was doing, but quickly shut up when Geralt pulled him into a hug.  
"...I thought I'd lose you." Geralt said.  
"Geralt, I can handle myself."  
"I know, that's exactly why I worry. You throw yourself into these situations thinking your indestructible, but you're not!" Geralt said, raising his voice.  
"That slyzard was about to dig it's claws into you! I'm sorry I didn't want you to get hurt!" Jaskier yelled back.  
"I'm a witcher, Jaskier. I heal faster than humans. You don't! I-" Geralt stopped himself and looked at the ground.  
"You what, Geralt?! You don't give a fuck about what I feel?! You didn't stop to think-"  
"I wouldn't be able to live with myself knowing I could've done something to prevent you from getting hurt anymore." Geralt said quietly.  
The air in Jaskier's lungs left him when Geralt said that. Jaskier looked away from Geralt.  
"Is that what this is about? My scars? It's just skin, Geralt. It heals and sometimes it leaves marks." Jaskier's face was stony. Geralt felt something in him snap. His eyes bruned into Jaskier as he yelled.  
"It's not my fucking fault that whenever I try and figure out where the hell you had gotten those kinds of scars that-" Geralt's voice softened. "that my heart feels like it's being ripped out of my chest. It hurts, Jaskier. It really fucking hurts that you won't open up to me."  
"You never asked! How could I know you were wondering about them?!" Jaskier threw out his hands, scowling at Geralt.  
"I never asked because I knew that it was a sensitive topic for you! Anyone in their right mind would have questions about them! You don't get those kinds of scars from a small tumble, Jaskier! Those are fucking battle wounds! I know what werewolf wounds look like! I know what pitchfork wounds look like! And I know damn well what ghoul bites and burns look like, Jaskier!" By the time Geralt finished, he was breathing heavily. He was pissed.  
Jaskier said nothing. He couldn't. How could he answer to that?  
"Jaskier, I'm sorry. But it hurts too much to be left in the dark. You can either explain yourself now or never." Geralt's gaze bore into Jaskier.  
He was at a lost for words. How could I explain this to him? If I tell him the truth he probably will think I'm lying and hate me even more. My hands are tied. What the fuck do I do?!  
"I- I'm sorry." Jaskier hung his head low. He didn't look up when he heard Geralt's footsteps walk off into the forest.  
Jaskier fell onto the ground. He hugged his head in his chest. Warm tears fell down his face and dropped onto the ground.  
He sniffled before deciding on something.  
I guess I have no choice.  


Jaskier rode up to an old abandoned tower. It looked like a mini castle that had gone under siege a few decades back, but the stones were just rotting away due to years upon years of neglect. He let out a wavering breath as he dropped to the ground. His eyes were still raw from crying. He sniffled before looking around. There was another horse at the tower.  
It’s Kaladin’s. Jaskier thought. He had instantly recognized the old, brown mare, Kaladin had named it Moose almost a decade ago while travelling with Jaskier on the Path. The door to the tower was practically rotting away, so he kicked it. The door broke down easily. He stepped over the splintering wood that littered the ground. The tower was cold and damp.  
I’ve seen them in worse conditions. He pondered. Jaskier’s attention turned towards the set of stairs leading down to the lower level of the tower ruins. He made his way down the stone steps.  
“Well,” Jaskier started as he saw Kaladin leaning against the wall downstairs. “I’ve certainly seen better meeting spots.”  
Kaladin scoffed at him. The other witcher had blonde hair and a scar running across his nose.  
“What took you so long, brother?” Kaladin said, old venom dripping from his words like wet paint leftover from a coat too thick.  
“I was busy admiring every historic tower in the Northern Realms. Let’s say you were misleading with this game of hide and seek.” Jaskier said sarcastically.  
“I’m playing hide and seek? You fucker, you’ve been playing cat and mouse with me for years.” Kaladin pushed himself off the wall.  
“You bastard, you killed him. You killed Jad Karadin!” Kaladin yelled at Jaskier.  
“He was a mad cat. I did what I had to.” Jaskier said, gritting his teeth.  
“It was an accident, Julian! He didn’t kill Aiden! That wolf lied!”  
Jaskier had enough. He lunged at Kaladin, dagger in his hand. Jaskier was seething.  
“Lambert never lied, you fucking prick!” Jaskier slammed the other witcher onto the floor, his left arm pressing down on Kaladin’s throat while his other hand held a knife to his face.  
“You won’t do it.”  
“I’ve killed one asshole witcher, I sure as hell will do it again.”  
“You’re bluffing.” Kaladin was right, and Jaskier hesitated. Kaladin took the opportunity.  
“If you won’t kill me, then I’ll kill you!” Kaladin gripped Jaskier’s chain, and ripped it from his neck. The chain shattered.  
Jaskier’s painful screams filled the tower.  
He rolled off of Kaladin. His chest was on fire. Jaskier groped at the burning pain with his hands. There was blood gushing out of a giant slash that ran from his right collarbone to his left hip. His screams echoed throughout the tower. The griffin witcher laughed hysterically.  
Jaskier used Aard and it caused Kaladin to fly back in the stone walls. The weak ceiling started to fall, the tower began to collapse on itself from the sudden impact. A large stone fell from the ceiling, falling down on Kaladin. More stones fell. Jaskier coughed out blood before crawling up the stairs before the stones could crush him along with Kal.  
The second Jaskier crawled outside of the building, the tower collapsed. Jaskier leaned against some rubble from the tower, gripping the large gash in his chest.  
“Fuck, the wound is definitely caused by magic.”  
I don’t have time to find a healer. Jaskier thought. The witcher ripped open his shredded shirt, blood was quickly seeping from the wound. He took his shirt and used it as a makeshift bandage. He applied pressure, but the bleeding didn't slow down.  
Jaskier laughed lowly, the action causing a hot, searing pain to run through his body. He gritted his teeth in pain.  
"I guess this is a fitting end for a bastard." He said to no one in particular. /p>

Geralt fastened his swords on his back before whistling to Roach. He heaved himself onto his mount before following Jaskier's trail. It was hard to spot, almost impossible to see.  
Knowing the bard, Geralt had guessed that he would do something stupid. Geralt kept telling himself that he was doing it for the bard's sake, but deep down he knew that he wouldn't be able to rest without knowing his was at least safe and singing at some tavern.  
He rode for about an hour or so before a fallen tower came into sight.  
It fell recently. Very recently. The dust was still settling. Geralt panicked. Is Jaskier in there, buried in beneath the rubble?  
He urged Roach to go faster. When he reached the tower his heart dropped. People would describe Geralt with words like 'brave' or 'fearless', but when he saw Jaskier passed out in a pool of blood, his own blood, Geralt was terrified. Geralt was scared of a lot of things when he saw the bard. He was scared that he might be dead. He was scared that he couldn't save him. And he was scared that he would never be able to see the bard's contagious smile ever again. Geralt dismounted and threw himself at Jaskier. There was a huge, gaping wound running across his chest. Geralt cradled Jaskier's head in his arms.  
"Jaskier..." His voice cracked.  
He checked the bard’s pulse and almost cried.  
It's slow. Too slow. He’s dying. Geralt thought in anguish.  
He stumbled backwards, and held his head in his hands. He looked up at the bard. Jaskier had scars all over his body along with the occasional burn mark. He had a burn mark running up the right side of his neck, stopping at his jaw. The burn was an angry red, it wasn’t treated properly when Jaskier had gotten it. Jaskier had a scar that started at his left ear and went to the bridge of his nose. It was a light pink, definitely a long-healed scar. His glamour was completely gone.  
Geralt hung his head low in his lap.  
"I'm so sorry, Jaskier. I've failed you."

Geralt would never admit it, but he cried that day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my heart broke when writing this
> 
> i forgot to edit it
> 
> comment your thoughts :D hope you enjoyed !


	5. bits of the past

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> jaskier's life as a witcher
> 
> what happened after the tower
> 
> PS the parts where i refer to jaskier as julian are before the glamour

A drowner lunged forwards, sprinting towards Julian with thrashing arms. The witcher ducked under its arms, cleaving the drowner’s side with his silver sword. It fell to the ground, guts spilling from it’s stomach.  
“Last one.” He breathed out. With a quick jerk of his wrist, Julian flicked the drowner guts off his blade and into the swamp water.  
Velen’s dreadful. Swamps everywhere. He thought grimly.  
Julian sheathed his sword and whistled to his mount, leaving over a dozen drowner corpses littered throughout the swamp. His gray mare clambered up to him, snorting and shaking her head at the sight of the dead monsters.  
“Easy, girl. They won’t do you or anyone else any harm. Now, let’s go talk to Bruno.”  
Bruno was the contract giver. He promised Jaskier fifty crowns if he removed a few nearby drowners that were terrorizing the village. Fifty crowns was barely enough to cover provisions, but Julian had a big heart when it came to people, especially during these hard times.  
Julian lifted himself onto his horse and started to ride for the town.

“Thank you, master witcher. Those drowners were a real pain in the arse.” Bruno said.  
Julian simply nodded. “Wasn’t very hard to remove them.”  
A sliver of hope passed Bruno’s face. “Erm, if it isn’t too much trouble, could you show mercy on the reward amount? I know the promised amount of fifty crowns was already low enough, but I need some money for my daughter’s dowry and if you could spare me a few crowns, it would be greatly appreciated.”  
Julian gave the man a soft smile. “Keep the money, you need it more than I do.”  
Bruno’s face flooded with relief and he smiled brightly at the witcher, which was a very rare sight for Julian. “T-thank you, master witcher! The rumors about witchers are poppycock, I always had the sneaking suspicion. Saying witchers won’t lift a finger to help if there’s no coin involved. Is there anything you want in return, food, water, shelter for the night?”  
“No need, I’ll manage on my own. Farewell.” Julian nodded curtly before turning to leave.  
“Wait!” Julian paused. “In Novigrad, I have a stash. Here, everything you need to know in order to find it.” Bruno handed Julian a folded piece of paper.  
“Thank you.”  
“Farewell, witcher. Good luck on the Path.”

Julian had decided to go to Novigrad, the stash might actually be worth looking at. Afterall, he could sell whatever he found inside. A few extra crowns here and there never hurt.  
After reading over the paper again, Julian sighed. The paper led him to an old, abandoned house by the river. It was old and made of planks.  
“I suppose appearances don’t mean everything.” He said under his breath before opening the door to the shack. Julian really hoped he was right, the place was empty, very empty.  
A screech came from upstairs. Dust fell down from the floorboards above Julian. Footsteps. A loud bang and more screeching came from above. Julian cursed and ran up the stairs, silver sword at the ready.  
“Duck!” Someone yelled at him as a chair went flying across the room. Julian ducked under the furniture before it could smack him in the head. He whipped his head around to see what the hell was happening.  
Another witcher, the one who had yelled at him, was fighting an ekkimara. The vampire wore jewelry and other shiny objects. Julian flipped his sword around his wrist before getting down in a fighting stance. He held his sword to the side of his head with both hands, the sharp end pointed towards the vampire.  
“Well, isn’t this a party.” Julian said jokingly to the other witcher.  
“Name’s Lambert. Lend me a hand?”  
“Julian. Gladly.” Lambert smirked at him before pirouetting and slashing at the ekimmara. Julian followed suit. The ekimmara screeched and slashed at Julian. Julian slid back before it’s claws could scratch him. Lambert adjusted his grip on his sword. Both witchers could tell the vampire’s attacks were getting slower, weaker. Lambert lunged at the vampire, slicing it’s arm. Julian ran up to the vampire and kneed it in the face. The vampire fell to the ground with a screech, but before it could get up Julian thrust his sword into its neck, killing it. He pulled his sword from the ekimmara and sheathed it.  
“Didn’t teach us to knee the vampires in the face at Kaer Morhen. Kaer Seren taught you some damn effective tricks, huh?” Lambert nodded towards Julian’s griffin medallion.  
“That was more of a spur of the moment thing rather than an actual strategy. But thanks.” Julian smiled at Lambert.  
“Whatever it was, worked about as well as Aard. Got our reward to collect. I’m kinda in a hurry. Let’s say you earned half, what the hell.”  
“I originally came here to find a stash. Our friend here probably got to it first.” Julian gestured to the dead lesser vampire. “Might as well get something from travelling to this shithole city.”  
“My thoughts exactly. Come on, let’s collect the reward from the supervisor. I have some personal business with them as well.” Lambert said, walking down the stairs. Julian followed close behind.  
“What’s that supposed to mean?”  
“Nothing. Take it as a heads up. Things might get messy.”  
“Duly noted.”

“So?” A Redanian guardsmans asked Lambert.  
“What do you think? We did what we had to do. Time to pay up.” Lambert said.  
The guard gave him a dirty look. “Wait here. I’ll go see the supervisor, get your reward.”  
“Do that ourselves, no reason you should abandon your post.” Lambert said, gesturing towards the guard. Julian looked over at Lambert questioningly before turning his attention back to the guard.  
“Hm…” The guardsman thought for a moment before answering. “Can’t argue with reason, go on in.” He nodded to the gateway before stepping out of their way. Lambert and Julian walked inside the gates.

“We dealt with the monster at the docks. Here for our reward.” Julian announced to Supervisor Lund.  
“Witchers? Since when do you travel in pairs?” He asked, crossing his arms.  
“Lot of dangers lie in wait for a lone witcher. Bandits, for example.” Lambert retroted.  
He narrowed his eyes at him. “I advise you to change your tone.” He uncrossed his arms.  
“Where’s Jad Karadin? Talk!” Lambert demanded, advancing on the man.  
“Who?” Julian asked.  
“Trust me, Julian, this is important. There’s something I gotta know.” He explained, turning his head to look at the other witcher.  
“I do not know any Karadin. Take your coin for the before and bugger off. Before I lose my temper!” Lund answers.  
“Where’s Jad Karadin? Asking you for the last time!” Lambert demanded, raising his voice.  
“Guards! To the dungeon with them!” The supervisor yelled, calling three guards over.  
Lund quickly ran away. Lambert followed close behind, leaving Julian to take care of the guards.  
Julian parried a sword aimed at him, kicking the guard down and jabbing his steel sword into the guard’s chest. The other two advanced on him at the same time, swords ready to block incoming blows from the witcher. Julian cast Igni, scorching the guards. They dropped their guard, Julian used this to his advantage and cut through them like butter.

“This guy’s more trouble than the ekimmara.” Lambert said. Supervisor Lund was hunched over, his hands held up defensively. Julian had found them in one of the buildings in the enclosed area.  
“Karadin’s disappeared, I swear! The others too! I only know of Vienne…”  
“What about Vienne?” Julian pressed.  
“She drinks at the Seven Cats. There day and night.” Lund answered quickly.  
“See? You can be helpful.” Lambert said before drawing his steel sword and killing the man with one swift blow. Lambert turned around to face Julian.  
“That was unnecessary.” Julian said disapprovingly.  
“No, it wasn’t. Help me out, you’re handy with a sword.”  
“I’m guessing it has to do with all of this?”  
“Yes. Meet me at the Seven Cats Inn. Tell you everything there.”  
“The tavern this ‘Vienne’ character frequents?”  
“Yeah. See you later.”

“I’m guessing you already took care of Vienne?” Julian asked when he heard multiple screams coming from the inn a few yards away from them. Lambert was leaning against a fence, his arms crossed.  
“Yeah.” Julian raised an eyebrow slightly.  
“Well, high time you explained what’s going on.”  
“Want the short version or the long version?” Julian pondered for a moment.  
“As much as I love stories, I’m gonna have to take you up on the short version.” Lamber nodded.  
“I had a friend named Aiden, from the School of the Cat. He was the best damn person I ever met.” Lambert looked down and shook his head sadly before looking up at Julian. “Jad Karadin killed him. Is that enough of a story for you?”  
“It’s enough. Lambert, I’ll help you out. Just tell me what you need me to do.”

Julian had ended up traveling to Skellige to get information out of some people. He was able to gather quite a bit about Jad Karadin, as did Lambert. When they met up at the inn, they concluded that Jad Karadin changed his name to Roland Treugger and now lived in Novigrad. The two witchers headed over to Jad Karadin’s new address. 

“Make yourselves at home.” Jad Karadin said to the two witchers. Lambert and Julian had found him in the courtyard of his estate. Jad Karadin was sitting on a bench in front of them. Julian narrowed his eyes.  
“He’s a witcher.” Julian pointed out.  
“Very true. You know who I am, and I’ve heard of you. You’ve been asking many questions about me. That always draws my attention.” Karadin said, standing up from the bench.  
“What School’d you come out of?” Julian questioned, gesturing towards Karadin.  
“That of the Cat. So few of us left.”  
“My friend needs to talk to you.” Julian said, looking over to see an ugly expression on Lambert’s face. He was pissed.  
“I’m all ears.”  
“Talk to him, Julian. If I do, first word he says to me, I’ll lose it and throttle the fucker.” Julian nodded and walked closer to the cat witcher.  
“Remember a witcher named Aiden?” Julian asked Karadin.  
“I remember him as I remember all the others- with the deepest regret.” Julian saw through him in an instant. Karadin was faking his remorse.  
“I’ve heard enough.”  
“What now?” Karadin asked the griffin witcher.  
“Know what, Karadin? Your remorse- it’s fake. Completely dishonest.” Julian said icily, glaring at him.  
“Don’t even know why we bothered with this chat. We came here to kill you.” Lambert cut in from behind Julian.  
“Do what you want, Lambert. Your friend, your vengeance.” Lambert drew his sword.  
“Don’t think I’ll go down without a fight.” Karadin hissed, drawing a steel blade from his hip.  
Karadin slashed at Julian, but the witcher jumped back and unsheathed his sword. Lambert swung his sword at Karadin, but the cat witcher cast Quen, creating a yellow shield around him. Julian tightened his grip on the sword, destroyed the shield with Igni, and pirouetted before landing a solid strike on Karadin. Karadin yelled out in pain, and Lambert came up from behind him, sword in hand. He made a clean cut across Karadin’s back. The cat witcher slid back from the witchers. Cursing, he charged towards Julian with his sword raised. Julian parried. Once Karadin’s guard was down, Julian punched the man in the face. Karadin stumbled back from the impact. In one fluid motion, Julian flicked his sword around his wrist before slicing Karadin’s throat. Blood spurted from the man as he kneeled down.  
“You bastard…” He choked out. “You’ll pay for this. Kaladin will avenge me. Just you wait.”  
Julian’s face morphed in despair. “You know, Kal?”  
Karadin fell to the ground with a thud. He was dead. Lambert sheathed his sword, and walked over to the dead witcher. The wolf kicked Karadin, hard. He turned his attention to Julian.  
“Thanks, griffin. I wouldn’t worry about what he said, bastard can’t be trusted.”  
“I suppose you’re right. I just really hope that was the right thing to do.” Lambert frowned.  
“He’s a fucking mad cat. He accepted a contract to kill Aiden.” He said, raising his voice to emphasize his words. Lambert sighed. “Believe me, if we didn’t kill him somebody else seeking revenge would’ve sooner or later. For this prick, sooner is better.” Lambert walked over to Julian, patting his shoulder.  
“Hope to see you again, you’re damn good company.” Lambert smiled at him. The griffin witcher smirked.  
“Likewise. Farewell.”  
Lambert nodded.  
When Lambert left, Julian could feel a pit in his stomach.  
Why the fuck did Jad Karadin know Kal?

Jaskier tears his way through the nightmare's inextricable grand finale. His consciousness finally penetrates and is thrown into the threshold of a sanctuary he calls reality. Stumbling over his hot, raspy breaths, he doubles over, lungs demanding more air. His heart is banging against his ribs, chest threatening to burst from its own beating innards. It feels as if he’s desperately clutching onto the last thin thread of sanity within him. If he lets go... there will be nothing left.  
Damp hair slips out in front of his stunned expression. The fine hairs jabbing at his exposed skin like little needles. He tries to scream, he tries to cry out; no sound leaves his lips. His throat is cracked and parched. Nightmare failing to subside, Jaskier blinks hard, attempting to unsee what cannot be unseen. Unquenchable fear hides inside his watery, bloodshot eyes, the emotion painted a dark shade of red, as if the artist spilled human blood on the top of his canvas. It was almost like the artist ‘forgot’ to clean up the mess of blood they made, and instead allowed it to dry into a darker shade; introducing it as a sick new form of 'creativity’. To them, it’s nothing but a pretty new addition to their esteemed oeuvre. Blood. Searing pain. That’s all he remembered.  
The events slowly came back to him.  
The tower, Kaladin-  
The pain worsens. But it wasn’t physical. It was a wave of emotions, guilt, betrayal, and sadness.  
I should be dead.  
He grabs his numb head with shaking hands and groans, pushing back some stray strands of dark brown hair in the process. His breaths are still uneven and filled with fearful worry.  
“Julian, snap out of it!” Aside from him, a man shakes Jaskier vigorously. Jaskier recognizes the voice in an instant.  
“Lambert? But you- how-” Jaskier wheezes.  
What happened to me?  
Pitch black darkness invades, answering his question. His mind slips from his grasp like water through stones, tumbling down deeper into the depths of wavering shadows alongside his other senses. He submits for he cannot claim victory in this battle for the state of mind.

A Shaelmaar lunged forward, quickly sprinting towards Lambert and coming closer, then jabbing out its claws in an attempt to stab him. Lambert's reflexes kicked in and he ducked forward, trying to cleave the Shaelmaar's legs. The beast noticed this at the last second and only got away with a small, bleeding slice. It sprinted at him again, but this time Lambert raised his silver sword and the Shaelmaar's claws and his blade clanged together, creating a rumbling echo through the cave. The weight of his sword was dragging it down, but the Shaelmaar soon recovered and pushed back hard and screeched. It was very strong. Lambert jumped back and dashed forward with his sword straight out infront of him. He attempted to stab it’s arm, but it rolled away at the last second. “Shit!” He snarled.  
It rolled around the cave. It made a sharp turn and hurled it’s armoured body at the witcher. Lambert rolled out of the way and cast Aard, throwing the Shaelmaar off balance and causing it to fall on it’s back. It struggled to get up like a turtle on its shell as Lambert ran up to it, sword raised above his head. The witcher striked, hard. The shalmarr let out a wail, and went limp. It had breathed its last.  
Lambert let out a heavy breath. He had been battling the monster for over an hour.  
Currently, he was in a cavern in Velen.  
I accepted a contract on a few nekkers, not a fucking shalmarr. He thought bitterly before kneeling down to the monster.  
All I need now is the head.

Lambert had gotten a hefty sum for the Shaelmaar, needless to say, he was in a good mood. He was riding Storm to a nearby village in hope for an inn and cheap booze. He had expected the smell of marshland, what he didn’t expect was the thick smell of blood instead. It was relatively fresh, perhaps drawn a few hours prior. Lambert spurred Storm, riding towards the thick, irony smell. A fallen tower quickly came into sight. He didn’t see anyone near it other than a still body near the rubble of the tower.  
“Geez, what happened here?” He said to himself.  
When he reached the tower, he dismounted and approached the body. Lambert stopped in his tracks when he saw the person.  
“Julian! Hey!” He yelled, crouching down beside the witcher and shaking him. Julian was going to die if he didn’t do something.  
Cursing, Lambert rummanged in his bag, pulling out White Rafford’s Decoction. Lambert tilted the other witcher’s head up and quickly poured the potion down his throat.  
Lambert heaved Jaksier onto Storm.  
“Don’t die on me, Julian.”

Lambert sat by a dying fire. He had taken Jaksier into the woods and set up camp. He couldn’t do much other than keep an eye on the other witcher’s vitals and change his bandages here and there. He sighed and threw a twig into the fire, hoping it would come to life and warm him up.  
What the hell happened to you? He thought.  
The last time they had ran into each was years ago. He didn’t expect to see him so soon, especially not in this state. Lambert knew he wasn’t helping the other witcher out just because he knew he owed him one. It was more than that. Lambert believed Jaskier to be a good guy, and it was rare to find other witchers that weren’t either batshit crazy or pricks.  
Jaskier launched up from the ground. He was shaking and hyperventilating. Lambert was shocked. He ran over to his friend, asking him what had happened. Jaskier didn’t answer. The witcher held his head with his shaking hands. He was crying. Lambert’s eyes widened. This wasn’t good. Lambert grabbed Jaskier by the shoulders and shook him.  
“Julian, snap out of it!”  
“Lambert? But you- how-” Jaskier wheezed.  
Jaskier’s eyes rolled back into his head as he collapsed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the fight scenes were the hardest part to write out of all of this
> 
> some events and some dialogue from jaskier's story is based off of a side quest from the witcher 3
> 
> comment what you thought! :3


	6. kaer morhen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ok wow i love this chapter
> 
> longer chapter

It was almost midday when Jaskier woke up again. He furrowed his eyebrows and took in his surroundings. He was laying down on a forest floor. Light was streaming into his eyes. He squinted, raising a hand to block the assault of light. It was cold. Winter was coming.  
Where the hell am I?  
Lambert snapped out of his meditation when he heard the other witcher rustling about.  
“Don’t move around. It was damn hard to stitch you up.” Jaskier sat up fully and leaned against a tree. He looked like hell.  
Lambert grabbed a potion from his satchtle and threw it to Jaskier. The griffin caught it with ease. Using his teeth, Jaskier ripped the cap off the Swallow and then downed it.  
“Thanks.” Jaskier said, his voice was hoarse. It was cracked with blood. Jaskier made a disgusted look and gestured towards Lambert.  
“Do you have any water?” He croaked. The wolf nodded. He stood up and walked over to Jaskier with a waterskin in hand. Kneeling down, Lambert handed the water to Jaskier.  
Jaskier took the waterskin happily and guzzled the water down, some liquid leaking down the sides of his mouth. Once he finished, he wiped his mouth and handed the pouch back to Lambert. The wolf shook his head.  
“Nah, just leave it there.” He said, nodding his head at a spot by Jaskier. “I’ll fill it up later. Better yet, if you’re feeling up to it, you can go fill it up.”  
Jaskier huffed out a laugh.  
“Thank you, for everything.”  
“Don’t mention it. I owed you. Consider the debt repaid.”  
“Oh, come on. If I hadn’t helped you kill-” He stopped. The smile on Jaskier’s face dropped and he looked down at his hands.  
If I hadn’t helped you kill Jad Karadin I would never be in this situation. He thought silently. Jaskier shook himself out of it. What was done was done. He couldn’t change that. Anyways, Karadin had it coming. In the end, it had gained Jaskier a few friends along the way. Like Geralt-  
Oh, god. Geralt. Jaskier held his face in his hands. He won’t ever forgive me. I won’t ever see him again, will I? Jaskier sighed as he recollected his years spent with the other witcher. His thoughts ventured to the night they shared at the inn.  
Am I the only one who felt something more?  
“You still alive?” Lambert snapped him out of his trance. Jaskier looked up at the other witcher.  
“Oh! Yeah. Got lost in my thoughts.”  
“Well, high time you explained what’s going on.” Lambert said. Jaskier decided to ignore that Lambert used Jaskier’s words against him.  
Jaskier took a deep breath.  
“You want the short version or the long version?” He asked, ignoring how much this resembled a past conversation of theirs.  
“Long. I wanna hear it all.”

Jaskier told him only about half the story when Lambert interrupted. “Let me get this straight. Jad Karadin wasn’t being a lying piece of shit when he said someone was going to avenge him? And that person turned out to be another griffin witcher who you knew for a lifetime? That bastard chose fucking Jad Karadin over his fucking brother? That’s fucked.”  
Jaskier nodded somberly.  
“And then, you went to Filavandrel to find a way to hide from this bastard because you didn’t want to kill him. The elf knew you were gonna scour the lands looking for a mage who could help you with that, so, he warned you about one. Your dumbass didn’t listen and went to her. Got a glamour, though it was closer to a curse.”  
“Yeah. That’s right.”  
“And you met the White fucking Wolf, Geralt of Rivia. He’s a fucking bastard, but I love the guy. He’s like a brother to me.”  
Jaskier looked down at the mention of Geralt. This caught Lambert’s eye.  
“Shit, what’d he do to you?” Jaskier had left out his intimate moments with Geralt. He knew he would sound like a love sick puppy to Lambert.  
“More like what I did to him.” He sighed. “Let me finish up the story.”  
“Ok, tell me what happened at the slyzard nest.” The wolf gestured towards Jaskier, urging him to continue with his story. Lambert was now sitting across the fire, looking intently at Jaskier. It was getting dark, fast.  
“Alright. After the fight, Geralt was pissed. He thought the slyzard would’ve killed me. I told him I was fine and could handle myself. He went off. Saying he couldn’t live with himself knowing that he could’ve prevented me any more harm.”  
Lambert raised his hand for Jaskier to stop.  
“You’re not telling me everything. Something happened between you two.” He deadpanned. Jaskier looked at the fire.  
“Yes.”  
“What happened?”  
“I’m not sure if I shou-”  
“Goddamnit, Julian! Geralt wouldn’t say that shit to just anyone.” Jaskier kept his eyes on the fire. After a moment of thinking, Lambert spoke up.  
“He loves you, doesn’t he?” Lambert said, grinning. Jaskier’s eyes shot up.  
“No, no! He would never. Afterall, he hates me. We got into a fight.”  
“Geralt wouldn’t stop loving someone just because of a small fight.”  
“It wasn’t small. A few days prior, we had erm- we had some aggressive cuddling-”  
Lambert burst out laughing at that. Tears of joy welled up in the corners of the wolf’s eyes.  
“Holy-shit-” He said in between laughs. “You did not just refer to sex as ‘agressive cuddling’ oh my god-”  
“It’s not funny!” Jaskier defended himself, flustered. “I just thought it would be awkward because you’re close to him and-”  
“It’s not awkward, believe me. Why’d you guys fight?”  
“It was stupid. He was mad about a lot of things. He was mad that I threw myself at the slyzard. He was mad that I wouldn’t open up to him about the scars-”  
“Wait, you only mentioned the scars appearing that one time before the banquet.”  
“Well, erm, right before the-”  
“Aggressive cuddling, yes.” Lambert cut in, a shit-earing grin on his face. Jaskier gave him an offended face before continuing.  
“I was taking a bath, so he kinda walked in and saw them.”  
“And then the aggressive cuddling commenced-”  
Jaskier slapped Lambert playfully, the wolf tried to block by raising his arms up slightly. Both witchers had big smiles on their faces.  
“Oh, be quiet!” Jaskier’s face was red from embarrassment.  
“You never thought to explain it to him?”  
“He never asked! He never seemed to be remotely interested so I decided to not mention it!”  
“That was a mistake. No wonder he was so pissed. You guys suck ass at communication. You know? The thing you learn when you’re still sucking on your mom’s ti-”  
“Ok, ok, don’t need a visual.” Jaskier said, holding his hands up in mock defense. Lambert smirked at him.  
“So you guys fought, I’m guessing this is when you go to the tower?”  
“You guessed right. Kaladin was waiting for me. We fought. He ripped my necklace off. And,” Jaskier touched his bandaged torso, “this wound appeared out of nowhere. The pain was horrible, it felt like a hot iron against my skin. I cast Aard, throwing Kal against the wall.”  
“And the impact caused the tower to fall. You escaped with your life, bar ely.” Lambert finished for him. Jaskier nodded. The wolf sighed and ran his hand through his hair.  
“What now?” Lambert asked.  
“Need a travel companion?” The wolf gave him a smile.  
“Sure. But don’t think you can sing around at taverns about my adventures.” He said jokingly.  
“Well, don’t be so sure of yourself. I would never sing songs about such a shit witcher with my lute- My lute! I left it by a tree right before Geralt and I went up the mountain to take care of the slyzards! I forgot it when I left to go to the tower, shit! I need to go get it.”  
“Why? It’s not like you can go around singing with that mug of yours now.”  
“It’s just- It’s a nice memory to have.” Jaskier said softly. He had remembered the times he had walked into a tavern and was instantly reprimanded with scowls and curses. But when he walked in with a scarless face, blue eyes, and a lute, innkeepers and patrons welcomed him, gave him food and money in exchange for a few songs, and would laugh with him. In short, it was a nice memory that consisted of pure bliss. That alone was rare for a witcher, so Jaskier wasn’t too keen on letting it go so easily. Lambert nodded, almost as if he understood.  
“Fine, but first, where the hell did you throw your shit? I can barely take you seriously with fucking silk trousers.” Jaskier smiled at him.  
“Really, Lambert? I quite like silk. You’re going to have to deal with the silk for a while. It’s quite far.”  
“How far?” Lambert questioned, raising an eyebrow.  
“Lower Posada far.” He grunted out as he stood, gripping his wound. Jaskier used the tree for support. Lambert saw him struggling and stood up, going over to him to help.  
“Seems like we’re headed in the same direction.”  
And you’re in no shape to lift a sword, much less stand up on your own. Lambert thought in the back of his head.  
“What’s your business in Posada?” Jaskier held up his hand, gesturing to Lambert that he was fine. The wolf left him leaning against the tree as he walked over to the horses. He had retrieved Jaskier’s gray mare from the tower. It seemed to get along with Storm quite well. Lambert began to heave the saddlebags onto the horses and pack up his things.  
“Not Posada, Kaedwen. Winter is coming.” Lambert said without turning around.  
“Ah, going to hole up at Kaer Morhen? Have fun with that, I’m gonna brave it out in the back of some farmer’s barn until the snow begins to melt.” Jaskier said from behind him.  
“Guessing you’ve done that before?”  
“On many occasions. Once you’ve been a witcher as long as I have, you stop worrying about winter. I haven’t been to Kaer Seren in many, many years, and I don’t plan to change that.”  
Lambert paused setting up his saddlebags and turned to Jaskier.  
“And how long is that?” He was referring to Jaskier being a witcher, but the griffin misunderstood.  
“Oh, I haven’t been back in decades-”  
“No, how long have you been a witcher?” He clarified. Jaskier was quiet.  
“I’ve lost count of the years. In all honesty, I can’t even recall the year I was born.” Jaskier laughed humorlessly and gripped his side harder at the sudden exertion.  
“I’ve been told a few centuries, but the source was probably unreliable.” Jaskier said, referring to the witch that had cursed him.  
“Holy shit, you’re an old man.” Lambert’s shocked expression brought a smile to Jaskier’s lips.  
“I’ll take that as a compliment, brat.”  
“This brat saved your ass.” Lambert retroted, finishing up packing up camp.  
“Touche.” Sighing, Lambert doused the fire by kicking it.  
“Come on. Got a long way ahead of us.” The wolf said.  
Jaskier ended up borrowing clothes from Lambert, they were the same size, thankfully. After a few warnings about fucking up his clothes, the two witchers set off. 

“What’s her name?” Lambert asked nodding towards the gray horse. They’ve been traveling for almost a week now. They were just a few hours away from where Jaskier said he had left his lute.  
“Pegasus.” Jaskier glared at him when he snorted.  
“What witcher names their horse Pegagus?”  
“What witcher names their horse Storm? It’s just above juvenile.”  
“Says the guy who named their mare Pegasus.” Lambert muttered.  
“I heard that.” Jaskier said as he rolled his eyes.  
“Good.” Lambert grinned at the witcher behind him. They fell into a comfortable silence. Once they reached the foot of the mountain, Jaskier halted, and dismounted.  
“Oh right, do I call you Jaskier or Julian?” Lambert asked, staying on his horse.  
“Whichever.” He said dismissively as he walked over to the spot where he had left his instrument. It felt strange to return to the spot he had been just a while ago. It almost felt like deja vu. Jaskier grabbed his lute from the ground and examined it. He was honestly surprised it was still there. It didn’t seem to have any damage from the cold, it was in perfect condition. Jaskier smiled and swung it over his shoulder.  
“I’ll stick to Julian. I met you as Julian, so it would be weird to call you by a false name.”  
Jaskier hummed in response as he made his way over to Pegasus.  
“Find it?”  
“Yeah, not a scratch on her.”  
“Her?”  
“Yeah, her.” Jaskier said defensively. Lambert chuckled at his antics. Jaskier heaved himself onto his horse and turned to Lambert.  
“I’m guessing this is where we part ways?”  
“No, come with me to Kaer Morhen for the winter. I’d feel like shit all winter knowing you were holed up in some barn.” Jaskier gave him an uneasy look.  
“What about Geralt?”  
“He isn’t coming this winter. Said so himself. I’m sure Vesemir won’t mind a guest.” Jaskier’s ears perked up at the mention of Vesemir.  
“Did you say Vesemir?”  
“Yeah, the old wolf is always at Kaer Morhen. Makes the place feel like home. Why?” Jaskier laughed. Lambert raised an eyebrow at him.  
“Well, now I have to come with. I met Vesemir on the Path ages ago. We traveled together for a while.”  
“God, you’re old.” He muttered under his breath.  
“Shut up, brat. Come on, we’re not far from my stash. It’s in an underground bunker.”  
“A bunker?”  
“Yeah, it’s where I ‘threw all my shit’.” Jaskier said, quoting Lambert. Spurring his horse, Jaskier rode off with Lambert on his heels.

Dust cascaded down the hole when Jaskier lifted the trap door up. It was dark out. Jaskier lit up a lantern hanging from the ladder using Igni. The ladder led down into the dark bunker.  
“This place looks like somewhere a murderer would take his victim. I’m not gonna go down without a fight, Julian.” Lambert said jokingly. Jaskier laughed at his remark.  
“Just to make you feel safer, I’ll go down first.”  
“Thanks, I have no idea what I’d do without you.” Lambert said sarcastically.  
Jaskier made his way down the ladder with Lambert following him. His boots thudded onto the ground when they reached the ground.  
“It’s so dark, I can barely see the tip of my nose.” Jaskier said, picking up a torch from the ground and lighting it with a sign. He handed it over to Lambert who took it without another word.  
“Thought you were a bard, not a poet.”  
“Oh, but I am one. Wanna hear a limerick?”  
“Sure.”  
“Lambert, Lambert, what a prick.”  
“Not bad.” Jaskier walked over to a few chests a yard or so away from the ladder. Kneeling down, Jaskier opened one of them. Inside was grandmaster tier griffin armor. Laying on top of the armor were his blades. Jaskier thanked Lebioda that no one had trifled with his items. Lambert peered over his shoulder and whistled appreciatively.  
“Where can I get a piece like that?” Lambert asked, nodded towards his gear.  
“Beauclair, near Metinna Gate. Talk to a master armorer by the name of Lazare Lafargue. He can make this type of equipment, but it’ll cost you. Spent over sixty thousand coins for the armor alone.”  
“Damn.”  
“No shit.”

A forktail circled the two. It roared and swooped down, it’s talons outstretched menacingly. Lambert and Jaskier rolled out of the way, their swords gleaming in the sunlight. Their feet crunched in the snow as they stalked the forktail, keeping their swords trained on the beast.  
Their travels were filled with banter between themselves, though here and there they would trade stories. Currently, they were in the Blue mountains, Kaer Morhen was just ahead. Storm and Pegasus ran off, taking cover under the trees. The mountains loomed over the two, it was almost intimidating. Needless to say, they ran into a forktail.  
“Fuck, looks like Eskel is slacking off.” Lambert hissed.  
“Lambert, you take the flank.” Jaskier said as the forktail landed in front of them. Nodding, Lambert ran to the side of the forktail, he pirouetted and slashed at the forktail’s back leg. It wailed and swung it’s heavy wing at Lambert. The wolf dodged backwards before sprinting towards it again, landing another strike.  
While it was distracted, Jaskier lunged forwards and swung his sword at the forktail. He landed a clean strike at it’s exposed chest. The forktail snapped at Jaskier, but he jumped back just in time. The monster whipped it’s tail at Lambert. Cursing, Lambert dodged and slashed at its tail.  
The forktail tried to take to the sky, but before it could leave the ground, Jaskier dug his blade into its wing, pinning it to the ground.  
“Lambert, now!” Jaskier yelled.  
Lambert ran behind it, he flicked his sword in a downwards motion before thrusting it into the forktail’s back. The monster let out a wail and fell to the ground. Both witchers ripped their swords from the forktails body before sheathing them. They looked at each other before sheathing their swords.  
“Good work.” Jaskier said, smiling at Lambert. He whistled to Pegasus who was slowly trotting up to him with Storm in tow.  
“Yeah, you too.” They mounted their horses and made their way to the once-mighty fortress.  
“You normally get forktails this close to the fortress?” Jaskier asked, tilting his head sideways.  
“No. Normally we have someone taking care of them.” In front of them, another witcher came into sight. He was leaning against a stone archway that led into Kaer Morhen. “Speak of the devil.” Lambert said, loud enough for the other witcher to hear.  
“Were you talking about me?” He asked. Must be Eskel. Jaskier thought.  
“No, Eskel, we were talking about the Tooth Fairy that would come down and kindly kill the forktails for us.” Lambert said sarcastically. Jaskier bit back a laugh at that.  
“Who’s your friend?” Eskel asked, eyeing Jaskier.  
“Old friend. Helped me out with some personal business. Have him explain later if you want.”  
“Alright.” Jaksier and Lambert rode into the courtyard of Kaer Morhen. Once Jaskier dismounted, Eskel approached him with a smile.  
“Sorry you had to deal with him for so long.” Eskel said jokingly.  
“It was dreadful. He’s a vulgar one, isn’t he?”  
“Yeah, he really is. Thanks for keeping an eye on him.”  
“I can hear you assholes!” Lambert yelled from the stairs, he was making his way inside.  
“Good!” Jaskier yelled back. Eskel laughed.  
“What School’d you come out from?”  
“Kaer Seren.”  
“A griffin, huh? I’m Eskel.” Eskel extended his hand out towards Jaksier, who took it happily.  
“Julian. Nice to meet you.”  
“Likewise, now let’s go inside.”

Kaer Morhen was huge. Even though the inside had rubble scattered around here and there, it was quite charming. It had a huge fireplace placed against a wall. In front of it, was a giant dining table and benches. Lambert was at the table drinking an ale. A few bear hides and tapestries hung on the walls. Jaksier walked inside with Eskel and he instantly found Vesemir. He was crouched down by some crates, looking through them in search of something. The old wolf looked up and widened his eyes. Jaskier grinned and walked over to the man.  
“I thought you were dead.” Vesemir said as he stood up. He looked like he saw a ghost.  
“I thought you were dead.” Jaskier said back to him, laughing slightly.  
“You haven’t aged a day, Julian.”  
“You’re wrong there.” He said, pointing at his crows feet. Vesemir scoffed at him.  
“Where have you been?”  
“Around.” Jaskier said, grinning at him.  
“Why are you here?”  
“Lambert invited me.”  
“Ah. And, have you paid Mingole a visit recently?” Jaskier gave Vesemir a wolfish grin. Mingole was Vesemir’s one time lover, but it seemed like both were still rather infatuated with one another.  
“My, Vesemir. I did, she is single and still has your ugly doublet in a chest.”  
“Be quiet. I should pay her a visit.”  
“Ok, old man.”  
“You’re not exactly a spring peeper yourself, Julian.” Jaskier laughed before walking over to Lambert and Eskel. They were at the dining table drinking. His footsteps against the cold stone floor echoed throughout the stronghold.  
“Didn’t know you knew Vesemir.” Eskel said.  
“Didn’t know he was gonna be here if I'm being honest.” Jaskier said, sitting at the table.  
“Enough talk, let’s drink.” Lambert said, raising his tankard.

The room swirled around Jaskier. White gull mixed with alcohol was a real kick in the liver. They’ve been eating and drinking for hours, exchanging stories and playing Gwent for coin. By now, they were all completely shitfaced.  
“I know, how about a jig?” Jaskier slurred. He steadied himself on the table as he reached for his lute that was on the ground, but he missed the table and ended up falling on the ground.  
“Juliannnn. You... alright?” Lambert called out a drunken haze. Jaskier groped the air for the table, once he found what he was looking for, he lifted himself up and fell into his seat, lute in hand.  
“Yessir.”  
“Good good great, now what’s this… about a song?” Eskel slurred across from Jaskier. Jaskier held his lute up, presenting it to the witchers. He only had it up for a few moments, but to Jaskier it felt like a few hours. He had way too much to drink.  
“I’mmmmmm,” Jaskier said, “gonna sing a song.” He said the last part fast and his words slurred together, but the other two witchers seemed to understand him completely. Lambert nodded quickly before holding his head with one hand, as if it hurt from the movement.  
“Yes, yes. Let’s have some fun. Sing… a song.” Eskel slurred. Lambert stood up and made his way into the kitchen, using the stone wall for guidance.  
“I’m going to get… more booze.” Lambert announced without turning around. Eskel groaned at that. Jaskier wobbled on his knees as he tried to stand up on the bench. He managed to make his way on top of the table with his lute in hand.  
“Alright… Esssskkkelll. What do I sing?”  
“Song.” Eskel said, dropping his head onto the table.  
“Good suggestion. How abouttttttt... Fishmonger’s Daughter?” Jaskier took Eskel’s silence as a yes. Jaskier spun around in a circle, instantly regretting the sudden movement. His balance wavered as Jaskier steadied himself. Jaskier lifted up his lute and started to play the lute. Even as shitfaced as he was, he was still able to play the lute quite nicely. That didn’t go for his singing. Jaskier was mostly just mumbling the words of the song, it was barely audible. He was almost done with the song by the time Lambert returned, two bottles in tow. Along with the bottles, he had an old hat on his head. Jaskier saw the bottles and abandoned his song. He stumbled off the table, tossed his lute to the side, and sat down.  
“Lambert, that’s Vesemir’s-” Jaskier started, but he was quickly interrupted by Lambert.  
“Hullo, young ‘uns! Got your own little carnival going, eh? Alcohol, my good men, is a witcher’s worst enemy!”  
“Where’d you dig up that old bonnet?” Jaskier slurred.  
“Vesemir’s trunk. The height of fashion in 1112! Old man probably put it on when he went courting! Or, in the jargon of the time, “wooing the damsels.” ” Lambert didn’t stop there.  
“Men, a witcher’s life is not all cards and liquor. It is toil, it is labor. No gurgling babes to wean for us, nay, not for us.” Lambert said dramatically with his hands at his hips.  
“All right, one Vesemir’s enough. Take that off before you get it dirty.” Eskel said, his voice muffled by his arms. Lambert listened and set the hat on the table.  
“Julian, your voice-” Lambert paused, looking like he was about to puke, thankfully he didn’t, “it sounds like an angel. And by that... I mean an angel that fell from the sky screeching like a cockatrice.”  
“Thank you Lambert.” Jaskier slurred sincerely, looking up at Lambert. He had only heard the first half of what he had said. Lambert sat down by Eskel, setting the bottles in front of them.  
“Pour.” Jaskier said.  
“Oh, I will. I’ll pour them… to the brim.” Lambert slurred. Eskel groaned, his head still on the table. Lambert set his hand on Eskel’s head and pet his hair.  
“Eskel agrees.” Lambert said, his words were barely coherent.

Eskel stood up. He mumbled something about taking a piss and left Lambert and Jaskier at the table. Jaskier watched Lambert’s gaze on Eskel.  
“Are you two-”  
“Shut uppppp.” Lambert wined drunkenly, he held his head in his hands.  
“Huh. Lambert... I gotta tell you something buddy. You’re a real prick sometimes, but I love you, brother.” Lambert looked up at Jaskier.  
“Fuck, Julian. I love you too, brother. Come ‘ere!” Lambert stood up, trying to give Jaskier an awkward hug from across the table, but instead he knocked over a bottle.It shattered on the ground. Luckily, the witchers had already downed it.  
“It broke.” Lambert said stupidly, looking at the broken glass on the floor.  
“Don’t… don’t sweat it. It was empty anyways.” Jaskier slurred.  
“Where the hell.. is my Eskel?” Jaskier shrugged.  
“...Your Eskel?” Jaskier questioned.  
“I said shut uppppp.”  
“Esssskkkelll!” Lambert yelled from the table. “Come out you drunk!”  
“Esssskkkelll… Eskel!” Jaskier joined in. Jaskier turned around when he heard the fortress doors groan. They were opening.  
“Lambert,” Jaskier slapped the other witcher’s arm from across the table, getting his attention, “I think it’s Eskel.” He pointed towards the doors.  
“Esssskkkelll… come back and drink with us.” Lambert yelled.  
“Us?” A deep voice asked. Eskel came into sight, but he wasn’t alone. He was propped up by none other than Geralt.  
“Geralttttttttt…” Jaskier wined.  
“Look who decided to join us!” Lambert slurred, raising his tankard up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was so much fun to write
> 
> comment what you thought :33


	7. cintra

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> geralt does stuff
> 
> long chapter

Roach’s hooves pounded against the dirt road as Geralt spurred him on. Spread out on the plains over yonder, a black and gold sea marched on. Their destination: Cintra.  
“Shit..!” Geralt muttered as he urged Roach to go faster. He was on his way to Cintra to warn Calthanthe and retrieve his Child Surprise. Chances are, the queen won’t be so forgiving this time. But Geralt knew that he couldn’t turn a blind eye at these numbers. He knew Cintra was powerful, but Nilfgaard was in a whole different league of its own.

Geralt rode up to the gates of the castle, dismounted, and made his way inside the gates before he was stopped by a platoon of guardsmen. One held out their hand.  
“No entry. Queen Calthanthe personally requested that the likes of you aren’t allowed inside.”  
“I need to see Calthanthe.”  
“No can do.”  
“It’s urgent.” Geralt pressed.  
“Sure, witcher. Piss off before we toss you into the dungeons.” Geralt scoffed. Turning around, he left the gates and walked into the city.  
There has to be another way inside.

“You cheats!” Ciri yelled, pointing at the boys around her.  
“Are not We’re older anyways, so it’s only natural we won.” One from across from her said, defending them all.  
“Those are trick die! No wonder you all kept getting five of a kinds!”  
“Oh, be quiet! Hand over the coin!”  
“Yeah, stop being such a sore loser!” Another said, crossing his arms.  
Ciri huffed out angrily.  
“Ask anyone, these dice are as good as any!” Ciri looked around. They probably had friends around them, ready to defend them. Her eyes trailed over to a figure wearing a cloak leaning against a building, deep in thought. She could barely make out his profile, but she guessed that they wouldn’t be friends with a big scary guy with two swords.  
“Hey!” Ciri called out to him. He looked up. He had a scar on his face, it ran across his eye, but that wasn’t what caused a shiver of fear to go down Ciri’s back. His eyes were yellow and split like a cat’s. She gulped before quickly regaining her confidence.  
“Help me out?” She pleaded to him. He raised a dark eyebrow before pushing off the building and making his way over to the kids. He kneeled down beside Ciri. Despite his appearance, something about him was almost comforting, strangely enough. He asked in a gruff voice:  
“With what?”  
“Is this a trick die? They say otherwise, but I bet they’re a bunch of lying snakes.” She said, clearly upset. Geralt bit back the urge to smile at the kid’s antics before looking at the die briefly.  
“It’s a trick die.” In his previous adventures, Geralt had gained fame as a master dice poker* player. It wasn’t too difficult to spot a trick die by now. The boys kept their mouths shut and walked away, deciding a few coins wasn’t worth pissing off a witcher. At that, Geralt stood up and started to walk away.  
“Wait!” Ciri yelled after him, stumbling to get up and follow him. Geralt didn’t turn around, that is, until:  
“I heard your exchange with the guard. I can get you inside.” Geralt walked towards her before crossing his arms. He gestured at her.  
“And how could you help me?”  
“There’s a passage that leads to the dungeons, from there you can get pretty much anywhere around the castle. That is, if you won’t hurt anyone.” Ciri said, eyeing his swords.  
“Not here for that. I just need to talk to Calthanthe.”  
“What for?”  
“That’s for her to know, not you.” Ciri pointed at herself.  
“I’m getting you inside. Without me, you would just be sitting out here twiddling your thumbs.” Geralt sighed.  
“Yes, you are. I’ll tell you on the way.” Ciri stuck her tongue out at him.  
“Fine, be that way. Keep your secret mission to yourself.”  
“That’s normally how secret missions work.” Ciri rolled her eyes.  
“Hmf, come on. It’s not too far from here.”

The tunnel was wide and it looked as if it went on for miles. The entrance was hidden behind a thick canopy of vines and leave.Thankfully, torches lit up the passage. They have been walking for a few minutes in silence. A few yards away, Geralt could make out an opening. Must be the dungeon. He thought.  
“Oh, right. I should probably ask you for your name.”  
“Geralt.” She paused. Geralt almost ran into her, but stopped.  
“Something wrong?” Yes, something is very wrong. Ciri thought. Her grandmother had told her about her being a Child Surprise. All she said was that she was claimed by two men. One of which went by the name Geralt, and the other was a bard named Jaskier. That was all she had learned about them. Whenever she pried for more information about them, she was ignored and learned nothing more. Her mind was jumbled. Where’s Jaskier? Why is Geralt here now?  
“No.” She regained her composure and continued leading Geralt down the tunnel.  
“Hm. What’s your name?”  
“Fiona.” She lied smoothly. Geralt gave her a questioning look.  
“Ok, ‘Fiona’.”  
“Don’t believe me?”  
“Not for a second.” He said, a small smile on his lips.

“Shit!” Geralt said harshly, pulling Ciri into a wall and covering her eyes. They had made their way into the dungeons, but before they could get far, the screams began. Nilfgaardians flooded the castle, murdering Cintrians and guards. Blood splattered on the walls as Geralt held his breath, waiting for the intruders to pass. Ciri’s eyes were wide under Geralt’s hand. She could hear the screams, the slaughter.  
“W-what’s going on-” She said fearfully, trying to move Geralt’s hand with shaking fingers. A Nilfgaardian soldier yelled something, and spotted them. Geralt’s ears pricked up. He had made out most of what the soldier had said. ‘She is here’. Geralt frowned, they were looking for the girl.  
“Don’t look.” He said. “Please, don’t look.” Geralt moved her shaking hands to cover her face and told her not to move. “It’ll be over soon. I promise.” He whispered. Geralt unsheathed his steel sword and walked in front of Ciri. He spun around and cut the soldier in half before more came running. “G-geralt?!” Ciri whimpered as she heard a sword cut through the air.  
“I’m here. Stay there and don’t look.” He reassured her. Ciri nodded her head.  
More came moments later, their swords raised and ready. They ran forward, ready to strike. Geralt parried one, kicking him into a Nilfgaardian behind him. The witcher spun around, stabbing one through the chest before quickly dodging a sword. Geralt jumped back, but he was soon cornered with Ciri behind him.  
Ciri peeked from her hands. Tears were brimming at the sides of her eyes as she saw the Nilfgaardians cornering them.  
“No... “ She said softly. “No!” She screamed, releasing Chaos. Geralt noticed this and cast Quen, a yellow shield appeared around him and Ciri. As the soldiers flew back into the walls, stones around them began to crumble. Ciri fainted, but before she could hit the ground, Geralt caught her. Nilfgaardians could be heard plundering Cintra, murdering innocents.  
Geralt cursed. Cintra had fallen. He needed to get out of there now, he couldn’t fight an entire army single handedly. The witcher lifted her up and checked her for injuries before running back into the tunnels. He had guessed the Nilfgaardians hadn’t found it yet, and he was right.

Ciri woke up to find herself on a horse. Her arms were hanging off of it. She was pretty much laying on its neck. Ciri shot up, hitting someone in the chest with her head. She heard a grunt behind her. She whipped her head around in panic, but instantly calmed down when she realized it was just Geralt. Her eyes widened.  
“What happened?” Geralt was looking forward, a stoic expression on his face.  
“You received your mother’s gift. After passing out from releasing so much Chaos, you passed out and we barely escaped with our lives.”  
“You knew?” She asked, looking down at her hands.  
“After that much Chaos, yes. Last time I saw something of that caliber was in Cintra, your mother.” Ciri pet Roach somberly.  
“So, what’s your real name?”  
“Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon. But my friends call my Ciri.”  
“Your friends meaning those boys from the marketplace?” She scoffed before the blood drained from her face. Those boys, what had happened to them? What happened to everyone?  
“...What happened to Cintra?” She said softly. Geralt stayed quiet, giving Ciri her answer.  
“Is that what you were going to tell my grandmother? Were you going to warn her about the Nilfgaardians?” Geralt nodded. They rode for a while in silence before Ciri spoke up again.  
“Where are we going?”  
“Kaer Morhen.”  
“What’s that?”  
“A fortress in the Blue Mountains. I don’t know where else to take you. Nilfgaard is hunting you down. I don’t know a lot of Nilfgaardian, but I made out enough that they were searching for you.”  
“Could you be mistaken?”  
“No.”  
“I don’t know why they would want me.”  
“If I were you, I’d keep it that way. Ignorance is bliss, for the time being.”  
They stopped a few hours before the sun set and made their way into a thick forest. Roach followed the two before Geralt stopped, then:  
“We’ll camp here for the night.” Ciri sat down on the relatively dry ground, watching as Geralt set up a fire. She watched in amazement as he cast Igni. Flames burst to life, licking the sticks.  
“Are you a mage?” She piped up, looking up at Geralt.  
“No.”  
“Then how can you do magic? And you have swords, too. Why do you need two?”  
“I’m a witcher.” Geralt said, sitting down across from Ciri. He stared into the fire.  
“Never heard of those.” Ciri admitted.  
“Figured your grandmother wouldn’t tell you much about me.” Geralt gestured towards Ciri, looking at her.  
“Then tell me about yourself. We’ll be travelling anyways.”  
“Not gonna tell me about yourself?”  
“No, I will. How about a game? You ask me a question and I’ll answer, then we’ll switch. We’ll do that until each of us has asked five questions each.”  
“Hm. Not much else to do.”  
“Great! You start.” She said, smiling brightly.  
“Alright, why were you in the marketplace?” Geralt regretted the words after he said them, he knew that Cintra would still be a touchy subject. Ciri’s face fell. The little girl wrapped her arms around her legs.  
“I would normally go to the market to play games with the other kids. It was far better than sitting around in the palace.”  
“Sorry.” Ciri looked surprised. She sat up more and scooted closer to the fire.  
“My turn, what’s a witcher?” She said, her eyes glowing with curiosity. Geralt sighed. How the hell do I explain this while keeping it kid-friendly? Then again, the kid has seen her fair share of bloodshed already. I’ll keep it short and sweet.  
“A monster slayer.” Ciri looked disappointed.  
“What?” Geralt inquired, humor lacing his tone.  
“Kinda a lame answer. New rule: answers have to be more than three words.” She said, smiling mischievously. The witcher smiled at this.  
“Hm, interesting rule. Let’s continue this another time. We should get some rest.” Geralt said. He laid down and closed his eyes.  
“Old man.” She mumbled. Geralt’s eyebrow twitched in annoyance.  
“I heard that.”

Geralt and Ciri walked beside Roach. The morning air was brisk and cold. Winter was coming, and fast. Luckily, they weren’t too far from Kaedwen.  
Ciri found his company quite enjoyable. Even though he had a stoic expression all the time and seemed as cold as ice, deep down he was a big softie. She watched carefully as he showed pity for the villagers town to town on contracts. Even if money was tight, he was willing to drop the rewards for a few drowners or a ghoul here and there by more than half. That wasn’t the only thing she noticed.  
She noticed the looks he received. Geralt was scowled at, spat at, and sometimes a few people were brave enough to throw a rock at him. But what surprised Ciri the most was how he kept his composure. He didn’t even flinch the slightest when battered. The little girl quickly came to a conclusion about witchers. People only liked them when they were useful, other than that, they would curse at them in every tongue known to them. Calling them ‘mutants’ and ‘freaks’. Ciri wanted to yell at them, and tell them that they were wrong, but when Ciri asked Geralt about it one day, he just shook his head, telling her that it would be pointless. She felt bad for him.  
She noticed one more thing. Geralt loved Roach. She caught him talking to the horse a few times. She noticed him giving her oats and apples all the time and taking the time to properly brush Roach down. Sure, he was thorough with other things like caring for his sword and armor, but not like this. To be honest, it made Ciri smile. It was kind of funny to know he had a side like this to him.  
Ciri tapped Geralt’s arm, getting his attention. She had wanted to try this for a long time.  
“Can I ride on your shoulders?” She asked eagerly. She thought it would be fun to see the world from a higher perspective. Geralt raised an eyebrow, but didn’t question it.  
“Sure. So long as you promise not to tug on my hair.” The witcher said.  
“I promise.” With that, Geralt stopped Roach and kneeled down. Ciri giddily ran behind him and threw her legs over his shoulders. She gripped his armored shoulders and lightly tapped his head.  
“Up, up!” She said with a big smile on her face. Geralt grinned. He held onto her ankles and stood up. Roach snorted at this and ninnied. Ciri’s eyes widened, she slapped Geralt’s shoulder before pointing in the distance. Geralt looked up at her, confused.  
“I can see the mountains from here!”  
“I can’t.” Geralt pointed out. Ciri pushed his head down, making him look forward.  
“Come on! That way!” She said eagerly.  
“Oh, really? That way?” Geralt smirked and got a better grip on Ciri’s ankles. He ran forwards. Ciri clung onto his shoulders, squealing with joy. Roach followed behind them.  
“Faster!” She cheered.  
“In your dreams.” Geralt slowed down and walked beside Roach.  
“That’s not very nice. I could tug your hair.” She warned.  
“I could let go of you.” Geralt said playfully, a wolfish grin on his face. Ciri huffed angirly. She wrapped her small arms loosely around Geralt’s neck and rested her head on top of his. Geralt didn’t know when it happened, but he realized that he had gained a soft spot for the kid. 

They were camping in the Blue Mountains. They were but a day away from Kaer Morhen. Geralt had decided to stop. More dangerous monsters prowled the mountain pass at night. Ciri thought it was a good time to bring something up. She was sitting on a log with Geralt. The snow had begun to fall a while ago, and hadn't stopped. It was now a few inches, and melted in Ciri’s boots uncomfortably. Geralt swished his bowl around. Tonight’s menu consisted of potato soup. They’ve been eating it forever. Some lady couldn’t pay Geralt with crowns after he took care of a fiend for her, but she had a good harvest this year. So, she gave us a bunch of potatoes. Thanks to her, at least they won’t go hungry anytime soon, even though Ciri thought it was rather bland. Ciri sighed. She had already eaten while Geralt was using a whetstone on his blades.  
“Hey, Geralt.” She asked, turning to him.  
He grunted in response.  
“Wanna continue that question game?”  
“Sure.”  
“Alright, my turn!”  
“Last time I checked it was my turn.” Ciri frowned.  
“Fine, ask away.” She said, gesturing towards him.  
“Were you aware of your powers beforehand?”  
“No. I don’t know what happened in the dungeons. I just remember feeling so… hopeless.”  
“Hm.” Geralt went back to his soup.  
“Who is Jaskier?” He paused and grew quiet. He looked like he had seen a ghost. Geralt set his food down. He looked distressed.  
“How do you know about him?” He asked weakly. Ciri was surprised. She had never seen him like this before. He must be very important to him. She thought.  
“My grandmother had told me that I was claimed by you and him.” Ciri said softly. Geralt looked down at his hands.  
“He’s dead, Ciri.”  
“Oh… I’m sorry. May I ask what happened?” Geralt ran a hand through his hair.  
“I failed him, and I paid the consequences. God I- I should’ve just trusted him more. I should’ve just stopped worrying so much.” Geralt hung his head low.  
“You shouldn’t apologize for worrying about someone you care about.” Ciri scooted closer to him and patted his back in an act of comfort.  
“Do you… need a hug?” Geralt laughed a little at that. That’s a good sign. She thought happily.  
“Guess that can be my third question: can you give me a hug?” Geralt asked playfully, yet there was pain in his words.  
Smiling, she wrapped her hands around Geralt’s shoulders and gave him a soft hug. Even though it would’ve been kind of an awkward position for most people, it felt completely natural to them.

Ciri is having a nightmare. Geralt noticed.  
Her brow was furrowed and she was practically writhing in her sleep. He nudged her awake with his arm. Ciri shot up from the ground and looked around frantically. Words were frozen on her tongue: ‘grandmother’. She inhaled sharply before letting out a wavering breath. Doubling over herself, she held onto the bridge of her nose, gathering her thoughts.  
It was beyond surreal, if felt as if it was part of her memories. But, she knew it was not. She had not seen the massacre that took place in Cintra, yet she somehow knew what was happening was real. She saw flames burn down houses. She saw Nilfgaardians running rampant through her home, kicking doors open and killing anyone or anything that they found inside of innocents’ homes. But, what she remembered most vividly, was her grandmother falling from her window amongst it all.  
Geralt waited for her to speak. So she did.  
“Did I… did I wake you?”  
“No, I was up already.” He lied. The witcher didn’t want the child to feel like a burden.  
“I see. “  
“Want to talk about it?”  
“Rather not.”  
“Hm.” They sat there staring into the forest. It was colder than before, they could see their breath now. A fresh blanket of snow covered the landscape, taking Ciri’s breath away. The tall pines were dressed in white along with the mountains and sky, as if they were wearing attire for a wedding. Ciri smiled at that thought. It was a nice thing to think about.  
“Geralt, can you tell me a story?”  
“Does that count as your turn for the question game?”  
“No, silly. It’s just a request. You don’t have to.”  
“Hm. Alright. How about this one time I was given a contract on a golden dragon in Skellige.” Ciri piped up at that.  
“Those exist?” She said, stunned.  
“Yeah. Extremely rare.”  
“What’s the catch?” Geralt leaned in.  
“Right away, I knew something was off, and I was right. The tracks, the scent, the behavior, everything was wrong about this supposed dragon. When I had found it, it turned out to be a regular forktail. Nevertheless, I killed it and took the trophy to the contract issuer, Vagn. I already didn’t like the guy from the start, barely helped me at all. When I told Vagn that it was just a forktail, he ended up only giving me half the coin, claiming he could have killed the ‘forkytail’ himself if that was the case.” Ciri snorted.  
“ ‘forkytail’?”  
“His words, not mine.”  
“If you lied to him he would’ve paid you the full amount.”  
“Yeah, I realized that after, but it was too late.”  
“So would you lie to him?”  
“I’m a witcher. Morals aren’t exactly my strong suit.”  
“Pff.” She rolled her eyes at him. Says the defender of the downwarren. She thought to herself.  
“What?” Geralt questioned, raising a brow.  
“Nothing, I’m going to bed. Goodnight.” Ciri nudged him away, giving her more room to sleep.  
“Hm. ‘Night.”

Ciri expected the fortress to be large, but she didn’t expect it to be practically in ruins. She breathed out in awe as she looked at the building in front of her. Even though she couldn’t see most of it due to the darkness, she could tell it was strangely beautiful.  
“Come on, they weren’t expecting me, so they’re in for a surprise.”  
“Who are ‘they’?” Geralt stopped walking and mentally smacked himself.  
“Shit… right. I forgot to tell you about the other witchers here.”  
“Who are they?”  
“Eskel, Lambert, and Vesemir. You’ll meet them soon, that is if Eskel and Lambert aren’t already shitfa- err, drunk.”  
“You don’t need to censor yourself. I’ve heard all kinds of curse words.”  
“I’m sure you have…” Geralt mumbled before continuing towards the gates of the keep.  
Geralt and Ciri were treading through the deep snow, making their way up to the fortress doors when he heard muffled voices from the side of the wall. Ciri gave him a confused look as he walked over to the side of the wall. Ciri walked behind him. He found Vesemir leading Eskel to the door. Vesemir’s eyes met Geralt’s. The old wolf let out a sigh of relief.  
“Wolf, take Eskel inside, and make sure those boys go to bed soon. I’ll make sure those drunks will have a lot of fun in the morning clearing out the armory. And-” Vesemir cut himself off as he saw Ciri poke her head out from Geralt.  
“Well, who do we have here?” Vesemir asked, he looked up at Geralt disapprovingly. “Wolf, don’t tell me-”  
“My Child Surprise.” Geralt said, looking down at Ciri.  
“Oh shit, Geralt… how the… hell…” Eskel started, but quickly turned green and turned away. Ciri laughed a little at him before turning to Vesemir.  
“Who are you? Are you Lambert?” Vesemir huffed out a small laugh at her.  
“No, child. I’m Vesemir, pleasure to meet you…?”  
“Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon. Ciri for short.” She held out her hand and smiled brightly at Vesemir. Vesemir looked up at Geralt and clicked his tongue.  
“The Lioness of Cintra? My, Geralt. You sure have your hands full. Mind explaining this?”  
“I will. But first, let me take Eskel inside.” Geralt said, gesturing towards Eskel.  
“Alright, I’ll take Ciri away from these drunks. The introduction wouldn’t be the best on their part if they were all drunk. We’ll tell them about her tomorrow.” Geralt nodded before turning to Ciri and kneeling down.  
“Vesemir’s gonna take you upstairs and give you a room. I’ll see you in a bit, but first I need to take care of Eskel here.”  
“Well, alright. But you better not forget about me.” Ciri pouted, puffing out her bottom lip for better emphasis. Geralt smiled softly.  
“Never. Now go, I’ll come up and see you in a bit.” Geralt ruffled her hair before standing up. Vesemir heaved Eskel over to Geralt.  
“Come on, let’s go this way. Who knows what those boys are doing in there.” Vesemir led Ciri away. Geralt sighed.  
“Eskel, you with me?” Eskel grunted. The two witchers made their way over to the gates and opened them. Even though it’s been a while since Geralt had been to Kaer Morhen, everything looked just like before. It looked like home.  
“Esssskkkelll… come back and drink with us.” Lambert yelled. Geralt raised an eyebrow.  
“Us?” He asked.  
“Geralttttttttt…” Someone wined.  
Geralt’s face paled at the sound of Jaskier’s voice.  
“Look who decided to join us!” Lambert slurred, raising his tankard up.  
“Jas…? Is that… really you?” He said weakly. A wave of emotions passed through Geralt as he practically ran over to the table. Eskel stumbled along behind him.  
Lambert’s hand shot out and shoved Jaskier’s head onto the table, keeping it in place.  
“Who? This is Julian. He’s a griffin witcher.” Geralt looked away from Jaskier, disappointed.  
“Oh. He just sounded like someone I knew.” Jaskier was dying inside at those words.  
Knew. He thinks I’m dead. He thought.  
“Well, aren’t you a sentimental prick.” Lambert slurred.  
“Hm. Vesemir said he’ll have you guys clearing out the armory tomorrow. Best if you all went to bed.” Eskel groaned, he was now sitting down beside Lambert.  
“You should all turn in before Vesemir gets even more pissed.” Geralt said eyeing them all, his gaze lingered on Jaskier before walking away. Once Geralt was gone, Jaskier let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. Jaskier shot his head up.  
“You said he wasn’t coming this winter.” Jaskier practically yelled at Lambert. Eskel looked between the two, confused.  
“Thought he wasn’t. Pretty boy is damn unpredictable, nothing I could’ve done about it.”  
“Shit, shit, shit.” Jaskier held his head in his hands and threw his head back.  
“What are you gonna do?” Lambert asked.  
“I don’t even know. Return to plan A? Hole up in some barn?” Jaskier said, pulling himself forward to look at Lambert.  
“Can’t do that. Snow is too deep by now.” Lambert pointed out. Eskel sighed, and decided he needed to be sober to have this conversation. Eskel stood up and left the two at the table.  
“I’m turning in.” Eskel called out to them. Lambert and Jaskier didn’t pay him much attention.  
Lambert sighed.  
“We’ll talk tomorrow. Come by in the morning. Until then, I’d stay in my room.” Lambert stood up.  
“Where do I sleep?”  
“Follow me, there’s a shit ton of open rooms.” Jaskier would’ve expected so, this place was once a school. Yet, there was something unnerving about sleeping in rooms that used to belong to young witchers, one that had died during the trials. Jaskier felt a shiver run down his back.  
“Ok.” Jaskier stood up and followed Lambert out of the room. It was going to be a long winter.

The door was shut; though, even through the thick, withered wood, the soft thudding of boots against worn stone tiles could be heard from the other side. As the wooden door opens, creaking due to old age, the footsteps cease.  
“Ciri?” Geralt called into the dark room. The only thing lighting up the room was the moon. In a hump of furs, Ciri slept silently. Geralt let out a sigh of relief. He had hoped it was the right choice to bring her here. He was uneasy with her being here with a witcher that was a stranger to him, but it wasn’t like Geralt had the option of taking her elsewhere. Before he could turn around to leave, he heard a soft voice.  
“It’s my turn. Geralt… are they going to find me here?” The witcher turned around to find Ciri still laying down, but she was certainly awake. She was scared. As any child should be. She was being hunted down, for reasons unknown to her, by the same men who slaughtered her friends, family, and people. She had powers that she didn’t know of before, powers that were very capable of murdering men. If that didn’t have its effect on her, Geralt didn’t know what would. He walked into the room and sat down on the bed.  
“No, I won’t let them.” Geralt leaned down and placed a soft kiss on her forehead. He stood up and left the room, closing the door silently.  
Ciri didn’t have any nightmares that night.

“Tell him the truth.”  
“I can’t do that!”  
“Then I’ll tell him.”  
“No! Lambert!” Jaskier gripped his arm before he could leave. Lambert had kept his promise and visited the griffin come morning. Jaskier needed advice, badly. Lambert watched Jaskier with crossed arms, shaking his head as he leaned against his wall.  
“Fine, then stay locked up in your tower, princess. Don’t expect me to bring you food.”  
“No! I don’t want to be stuck up here. Just- Can you perhaps keep an eye out for me? Make sure hallways are clear of him so I won’t run into him and stuff?”  
“Why are you so worried? It’s not like he’s ever seen your face like this.” Lambert gestured towards Jaskier’s scarred mug.  
“My face is hardly disfigured. I didn’t exactly change up my entire appearance with the glamour, but now that I think about it, that probably would’ve been a good idea.” Jaskier admitted. He was now pacing around the room fretfully. The wolf sighed and pushed off the wall, unfolding his arms.  
“We gotta go. Vesemir told us to go to the armoy, think he’s serious about us clearing out the rubble. That means you, too. That is, unless you wanna tell the others the deal with Geralt. But I’d bet my own pouch that they would say the same thing as I did.” Jaskier sighed and stopped pacing. The griffin turned to him, waving his finger at Lambert.  
“Fine. But first,” Jaskier grabbed a cloak from his bed and swung it around his shoulders, “what do you think?”  
“What am I looking at here?” Jaskier groaned before pulling the hood over his head and spinning around.  
“That hides just about half your face. What about the other half?” The griffin grins.  
“I don’t need to worry about that. I’ll just keep my distance. He shouldn’t make the connection between a living witcher and a-” Dead bard. He thought somberly. Jaskier cleared his throat.  
“So yeah.” He croaked. Lambert sighed.  
“Don’t normally get all sentimental and shit, so take it or leave it. You gotta understand that with doing this, you’re not only hurting yourself, but Geralt, too.”  
“What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”  
“It’s only a matter of time, Julian. He’ll either figure it out himself or someone will let something slip.” Lambert started to walk out the room.  
“You wouldn’t.” Jaskier took a few steps forward.  
“Not me, but maybe the others, or more likely, you. Come on. Armory, now.” He said, slightly turning his head to the side. With that, the wolf walked out the door. Jaskier cursed, adjusted his cloak, and followed Lambert. 

The roof had collapsed, leaving rubble in the armory. Ciri watched as the snow fell silently, adding to the thin sheet of snow in the room. Geralt stood by her, watching the snow as well. Vesemir was talking to Eskel, Lambert, and Jaskier. Geralt was wary of the new witcher. He knew his name the other night, but Geralt just surmised that someone had told the griffin about him. It’s not like there were more than two white-haired witchers in the keep. At first, Geralt thought his suspicions would soon come to pass, but he was wrong. They only grew. Now the new witcher, or Julian Lambert had told him, was wearing a cloak, hiding the majority of his face from view. He seemed way too familiar with Lambert and Vesemir, Lambert he could understand, but Vesemir? It was all too strange.  
Just who is he? A random griffin witcher, I thought they all died. Geralt’s thoughts were interrupted by Vesemir walking over with the others, Jaskier stayed towards the back.  
“Wolf, introduce the little one.”  
“My name is Ciri.” She said, pushing past Geralt. Lambert choked slightly. Eskel just listened, he had met Ciri the other night, and Jaskier’s eyes were filled with fear.  
Is that…? The griffin wondered in shock.  
“What she said.” Geralt said, looking at the girl. “She’s my Child Surprise. She’ll be staying with us for a while.” Jaskier’s throat felt dry. It was really their Child Surprise. She was really here. Jaskier believed that he would never be able to see her, but he was thankfully wrong.  
“Geralt, what the fuck are you thinking? You brought a fucking kid to Kaer Morhen?”  
“Lambert-” Eskel tried to calm him down, but to no avail. Lambert held his hand out to stop him.  
“No, I wanna hear what pretty boy has to say. Why’d you bring her here Geralt?” He said, raising his voice. Jaskier watched from behind.  
“She had nowhere else to go, Nilfgga-” Geralt stopped talking and eyed Jaksier. He wasn’t sure if he could trust him with this information, hell, just information of Ciri’s existence. Vesemir noticed Geralt’s unease and decided to step in.  
“Wolf, I trust Julian with my life. Now, tell us about Nilfgaard.” Vesemir’s words hung heavily in the air. Vesemir’s decisions were final, and that was that. They witchers knew that Vesemir trusted them, but behind his confident words were lifetimes of trust and friendship. Jaskier smiled at Vesemir, and nodded his head once, expressing his gratitude. Geralt sighed. He didn’t have much of a choice.  
“She’s the-” Ciri couldn't take it anymore. A bunch of people were standing around her talking about her, but weren’t even regarding her. Ciri spoke up in a loud voice, drowning out Geralt’s.  
“My full name is Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon. I am the Lioness of Cintra. For whatever reason, Nilfgaard seeks me. And they won’t stop until they find me. Geralt took me here because he needed to be sure of my safety. Don’t blame him, I am the one who needs asylum. Without him, I’d be dead.” Ciri finished quickly, looking up at the witchers. Geralt was surprised.  
“And there you have it.” Eskel said. “How long will she be staying here?”  
“Not sure, yet.”  
“Well what the hell do we do with a kid? Don’t expect us to throw her through the Trials-”  
“Don’t even start, Lambert.” Geralt snapped. “That never crossed my mind, not once.”  
“Geez, I wasn’t suggesting it.” Lambert said, holding his hands up in mock defense.  
“You could do what we’d do with a boy.” Jaskier piped up for the first time. Geralt’s eyes snapped over to Jaskier.  
“What do you mean by that?” Jaskier took a few steps towards Ciri before explaining.  
“A little physical training never hurt. Ciri, you said Nilfgaard was hunting you down, as much as it pains me to say, they probably won’t stop until they find you. That could be for years. You might as well be capable of holding a sword and defending yourself.” Jaskier pointed out, looking down at Ciri.  
“What do you think?” Jaskier asked her, a warm smile on his lips. Ciri liked Jaskier so far. He talked to her directly, smiled more than the others, and she seemed drawn to him.  
“Yes! You were Julian, right?” Ciri smiled brightly at him. Jaskier matched her smile.  
“Yes, dear. What says you, Geralt?” Jaskier asked without looking away from Ciri.  
The wolf narrowed his eyes before giving up.  
I know Julian from somewhere. Not sure where. Gerlat thought, making a mental note to question the griffin later.  
“Sure.” Lambert grinned mischievously at this.  
“Finally, something interesting to do! Teach you the basics tomorrow, kid.” Eskel frowned and spoke up.  
“No way in hell she’s learning how to whack a sword around like you.”  
“What’s that supposed to mean? Do you wanna teach me swordplay, prick?” Lambert growled.  
Eskel smirked. “Depends, come see me later for private lessons. I know you like them-” Lambert clamped his hand over Eskel’s mouth before he could continue.  
“S-shut up, you fucking ass.” Eskel raised an eyebrow, but before he could continue, Vesemir cleared his throat.  
“Flirt somewhere else, boys. Ciri, we’ll be glad to teach you a few tricks. You can start tomorrow. For now, get accustomed to the fortress. Julian, the last part goes for you, too.”  
Jaskier nodded, and left, ignoring Geralt’s gaze on his back. Lambert and Eskel started to walk away, but Vesemir stopped them.  
“Don’t forget, this armory won’t clear itself out. I want it done before the week’s end.” Lambert sputtered at this.  
“What about Julian?! He drank, too!”  
“Yeah, but that was his warning. You drunks have no self-control.” Eskel sighed.  
“Fine. Lambert and I will have it cleared out in time. Come on, don’t start something you can’t finish.” Eskel said the last part to Lambert, and dragged Lambert out of the armory before he could piss off Vesemir. Geralt watched them leave before turning to Vesemir.  
“I need to talk to you.”  
“Later, wolf. We’ll talk tomorrow. I’m going to get started on clearing out some of this rock.”  
“Soft heart?” Geralt asked, raising a brow. Vesemir laughed.  
“Hardly, I just know they won’t get it done before the week.  
Geralt smiled.  
“Come on, Ciri. I’ll show you around.”

Jaskier was walking along the fortress walls, looking out at the mountains. Beside him, a pendulum swung in the air. He had one back at Kaer Seren. Wasn’t the fondest of memories. His ears perked up when he heard someone laughing. He turned around to find Ciri and Geralt in the courtyard. They were throwing snow at each other. Jaskier smiled at them. He wanted to go down there and join in, but he knew the look Geralt gave him. He could recognize that look anywhere. Jaskier closed his eyes. Geralt didn’t trust him. Jaskier didn't blame him, he would feel the same. But, it made him question if Geralt would trust him if he knew it was him. Probably not. Jaskier thought in the back of his head. The griffin sighed, but when he opened his eyes he was met with a faceful of snow. Ciri laughed at him from the courtyard.  
“S-sorry, Julian!” She said in between laughs. Geralt smiled at the girl, and gave Julian an apologetic look. Jaskier laughed good naturedly before gathering snow in his hand with a big smile and threw a snowball down at Ciri. She squealed and ran away from the snow.  
“I have the high ground, Ciri!” Jaskier called down to her.  
“No fair! You cheater!”  
“Should’ve thought about that beforehand.” Geralt said to her, laughing softly.  
“Oh, be quiet you!” Ciri yelled and threw snow at Geralt. The wolf just lifted his hand up before the snow could hit him in the face.  
This was enough. Jaskier thought. But he knew it was a lie.  
Jaskier’s heart dropped when he heard crying. But it wasn’t coming from the courtyard. It sounded like a little boy’s voice. He ran over to the pendulum, jumped up by it, and peered down the wall. At the bottom of the wall, a little boy was standing in the snow, crying.  
Jaskier knew it was an illusion, a very disturbing illusion. Geralt looked up at Jaskier.  
“Julian! What are you doing?” The wolf called to him. Jaskier held up a hand for a moment before answering.  
“Foglets! Be right back!” Before Geralt could say anything, Jaskier jumped off the wall.  
“Julian!” He yelled in panic. He cursed.  
“What is he doing?” Ciri asked, panicking.  
“Being stupid.” The witcher replied before telling her to stay there. Geralt ran up the wall and gripped the ledge, pulling himself onto the wall.

Geralt led Ciri into the courtyard. It was filled with fluffy snow. Ciri ahead of Geralt and ran out into the snow, taking some into her small, gloved hands. The wolf smiled.  
“Ciri.” He called out.  
“Yeah?” She said without turning around.  
“My turn to ask a question.” She grinned at him.  
“Ok, ok, shoot.” She started walking over to him.  
“Have you ever had a snowball fight?”  
“Yes, a few times in Skellige with Mousesack.” Ciri gave him a knowing look before scooping up snow and throwing it at Geralt.  
“Ha! Take that!” She laughed as she ran away from Geralt when she saw him grabbing snow off the ground. Geralt ran up to her and stuffed the cold snow in her hood. He threw the hood up and Ciri laughed.  
“Oh, you’ll regret that!” She said giddily. She was about to throw a snowball at Geralt, when she spotted a figure on the wall. She instantly knew it was Jaskier, he had a hood up. She threw her arm back far, before throwing it as far as she could. It hit Jaskier right in the face. The griffin quickly shook the snow off and Ciri laughed.  
“S-sorry, Julian!” She said, still laughing.  
After a few remarks, Jaskier threw himself over the wall.

Geralt looked over the wall, watching as Jaskier fought two foglets. The wolf held his breath as he saw Jaskier keep his eye on one, while the other appeared behind him. Jaskier saw this and threw his blade under his arms, striking the foglet behind him. That one quickly disappeared, waiting for an opportunity. The other tried to attack Jaskier, but the griffin twirled around and sliced it in half. *Jaskier's hood flew off of his head*. The one from before appeared, clawing at Jaskier. But the witcher moved out of the way, until- His back hit a cold wall. Geralt cursed and vaulted over the wall. He fell on his feet, but it still hurt like hell. Geralt drew his silver in a flash and killed the foglet before it could hurt the griffin. Jaskier sighed. Geralt turned to him, catching a glimpse of his face before the other man rips his hood back over his head.  
Was that...? Geralt's breath hitched in his throat. Jaskier looked away quickly, hoping that he didn't see enough to figure it out. He was wrong.  
“Foglet’s must’ve remembered a boy’s screams and appearance that fell off the pendulum.” Geralt said.  
“I’ve seen a lot of disturbing things, but this definitely made its way into the top ten.” Jaskier said jokingly, flashing a small smile at Geralt. The wolf wasn’t paying much attention, he was trying to get over what he had seen. It had been Jaskier. It had to be him.  
“Can I hug you?” Geralt said, he voice was weak. He doesn't think I know it's him... Geralt realized when he saw Jaskier's mouth go agape.  
“I mean- ugh. I didn’t mean to say that.” Geralt tried to explain, failing to find the right words to say.  
“So you were thinking that?” Jaskier laughed. “You’re really something. Sure, a little dramatic for a few foglets, though.” The griffin walked up to the frozen witcher and wrapped his arms around his neck, pulling him into an embrace. Even though they were surrounded by cold wind and snow, Geralt never felt that warm before in his life. Geralt mindlessly wrapped his arms around Jaskier’s waist, pulling them even closer. He felt like he found something that had been missing for far too long.  
“Um... Geralt.” Jaskier looked up at the wall. Ciri was giving them a shit-eating grin.  
“Hm.” He said, losing himself in the hug.  
“Get a room!” She yelled down to them. Geralt quickly released him and cleared his throat.  
“Thanks.” Geralt said lamely, looking away from Jaskier. “What’s with the hood? Can’t see your face at all.”  
“Falling for me already? Oh, don’t give me that face, I’m only joking. I’m rather insecure if I’m being honest. Scars all over my face and eyes, not a pretty sight.” Jaskier lied smoothly, praying that Geralt would buy it.  
“Hm. I understand.” Geralt didn’t say anything more on the matter. They climbed up the wall together, meeting Ciri at the top. She was grinning devilishly.  
“Geralt and Julian sittin’ in a tree, k-i-s-s-i-n-g-” Geralt gave her a pointed glare, to which she returned. Jaskier only laughed at the two.  
“I don’t know, what do you think? I think a tree sounds much more romantic than by a couple of foglet corpses.” Jaskier said playfully, nudging Geralt. Ciri grinned at Geralt’s expression.  
“Last time I checked, it was my turn. So, Geralt?” The wolf frowned at them.  
Two can play that game. Geralt thought before answering. Geralt wrapped his arm around Jaskier, letting their hips touch.  
“I was thinking somewhere more private.” Geralt said, low enough for just Jaskier to hear. A shiver ran through Jaskier. The griffin pushed Geralt away quickly.  
“Erm-I- I might have to take a rain- yes, a rain check on that!” He stuttered, backing up. Even with the hood on, anyone could tell he was flustered. Geralt watched him with a raised eyebrow, interested in the other witcher more than ever now. Ciri grinned at the two.  
After that day, Ciri decided to play matchmaker with the witchers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm alive
> 
> i'm just gonna update whenever i have a chapter ready lol
> 
> comment what you thought !! :3


	8. ghouls and alghouls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ciri thinks the book is horribly dull

“Old witcher’s fast asleep… Ciri’s disappeared somewhere, of course.” Geralt observed. 

Vesemir was snoring in a chair, on the ground in front of him was a large book opened to a section about ghouls and a pillow on the ground. The old wolf must’ve been teaching Ciri about monsters. It wasn’t Ciri that Geralt was really looking for, Geralt had something to bring up with Vesemir. Geralt walked over to the balcony, looking down at the courtyard. Ciri was watching Jaskier intently as the griffin taught the little girl how to strike at the dummies.

“Guess she prefers practice to theory…” Geralt said to himself. Vesemir woke up behind him.

“Hm? What?” He said, half asleep still.

“Time to wake up, master.” Geralt said half jokingly as he turned around to face Vesemir. “These lessons so boring they put you to sleep, too?” He asked, gesturing at the books and notes scattered across the floor.

“Dammit… Had her taking notes on “Ghouls and Alghouls”... Wanted to rest my eyes a bit.” Vesemir said, bending over in the chair and holding his head in his hand. 

“Huh. Making her slog through that brick? No wonder she took off.” Vesemir stood up.

“John of Brugge lacks flair, true, but he’s reliable. Not like the hogwash they print nowadays.” He walked over to Geralt, who was now sitting on the small stone wall that acted like a barrier for the balcony.

“Training with Julian, at least she isn’t training by herself, embedding her errors.” Vesemir said. “You should go down there, see if everything's going smoothly. I trust in Julian, but more so than not, his methods rarely leave a mark on the lesson and more on the jokes he makes along the way.”

“Actually, he’s what I came up here for in the first place. Have some questions.” Vesemir gestured at him, motioning him to continue.

“How do you know him? You mentioned that you trusted him with information about Ciri, there has to be some history between you two.”

“Yes, we met centuries ago.” Geralt raised his eyebrow at that. “Don’t give me that look, he aged better than I have, I’ll admit. We met on the Path, in Honorton. I was going to kill him, to be honest. I’m thankful I did not.”

“Why were you going to kill him?” Vesemir sighed.

“Don’t feel any resentment towards the witcher, but he massacred the town.” Geralt looked down at the courtyard, watching Jaskier.

“What happened in Honorton?”

“Julian was barely getting by, skinniest witcher I’d ever seen. A few rabbits here and there were barely enough. Out of desperation, he accepted a contract on a leshen in Honorton. After slaying it-” 

Geralt interrupted, “He managed in that state?” 

“Naturally. He seems rather aloof for a witcher, but believe me, he is more calculated than you’d imagine. As I was saying, he returned to find that they would only give him a handful of crowns instead of the much larger reward mentioned on the contract. He said that they needed to give him a little more to be able to resupply his potions and get some food. They tricked him, sent him over to the barn and stabbed him in the back with a pitchfork.” 

Vesemir leaned his hands on the stone barrier. 

“He lost it. Drew steel and didn't sheath it until the ground was slick with blood. Killed everyone in the village spare a few handfuls. I had accepted a contract in Honorton, and found most everyone dead. When I found Julian, he was breathing, but in pretty bad shape. After talking to him, I decided to help him out. He seemed decent, he was just desperate. Later, we started travelling together. Not much else to say other than that we lost contact after parting ways. I wouldn’t press him for details or scold him, you aren’t called the Butcher of Blaviken for no reason.” 

Geralt thought for a moment before speaking again.

"Why is he here, at Kaer Morhen?"

"My, aren't you curious. Ask Lambert, he's the one who brought him here. Better yet, ask Julian yourself."

"Speaking of Lambert, where is he?"

"Clearing out the armory with Eskel. They've been at it for hours. I should probably tell them to take a break."

Geralt sighed and stood up from the stone barrier.

"Why are you so interested in Julian?" Vesemir asked.

"Met him before. But he was different then. Very different."

Vesemir didn't respond to him. Instead, he kept his gaze locked onto the figures in the courtyard.

“I’ll head down to the courtyard.” Vesemir nodded and turned his head to the side, watching the witcher leave.

\---

“Disobeying Vesemir’s instructions… Unwise.” Geralt said to Ciri as he approached the two. The wolf crouched down in front of Ciri.

“Well, yes, but...that book was horribly dull!” Ciri complained.

“I know. And you know it's no excuse.”

“Ugh. I'm sorry. It won't happen again.”

“Better not. Vesemir says if it does, he'll make you eat a bowl of slugs. Covered in salt.”

“Eeewwww!” Ciri said, laughing. The griffin rested his wooden sword on his shoulder. Jaskier watched the interaction with an adoring smile on his lips.

“Exactly. So you'd best behave. Go back to your training. I’ll watch.” Geralt said, smiling at her. 

He retreated over to the stone wall and leaned against it. The wolf watched intently as Jaskier taught Ciri about swordplay. They must’ve been at it for hours by now.

He was a witcher. This entire time. Geralt mentally smacked himself. He felt foolish for overlooking such crucial details until now. The slyzards, he wasn’t stupidly brave at all, he was merely confident in his skills. And I doubted him. The collection of scars obtained from monsters and pitchforks. They were all explained, especially the pitchfork with Vesemir’s story. He must’ve had some sort of spell on other than the glamour, otherwise I would’ve been able to tell earlier on. 

With that being known, it begs the question: why? Why was he hiding? And, why didn’t he tell me during these past few days? Geralt held onto the bridge of his nose. His head hurt just from thinking about it. 

Among many emotions, Geralt felt strange. It was strange that for once the witcher in front of him was older than him, that is, not counting Vesemir. It was strange that Jaskier was here now. And it was strange that Geralt still felt drawn to him.

Ciri held her sword out straight in front of her, her knuckles turning white from the tense grip she had on the wooden sword. Jaskier tutted and tapped her knuckles.

“Too tight, loosen up a bit. Your sword isn’t gonna run away from you.” Jaskier said playfully. Ciri stuck her tongue out at him before loosening her grip. Jaskier tapped his wooden sword at her legs and complained about her stance.

“No monster is gonna sit around and wait for you to get up if you fall over yourself while using that stance.” Jaskier pointed out.

“I thought this training was for self defense.” She said, dropping her sword.

“It is.”

“Then why a monster?”

“First thing that came to mind. Not to mention, monsters don’t just attack witchers.”

A few hours passed. Jaskier had finished teaching Ciri to strike at the dummy, so he left her to work on her stance and style. The griffin walked over to Geralt who was leaning against the stone wall, looking lost in thought.

“She’s doing pretty good. Fast learner, but damn defiant. Lambert will have fun trying to teach her to parry tomorrow.” Jaskier said, laughing at his own words.

Geralt didn’t answer, he kept his gaze on the dummy Ciri was slashing at. Jaskier decided that he wasn’t going to get an answer from him, so he filled the silence.

“So, she ran away from Vesemir. I had asked her about her lessons with him, but she just swatted me off and dragged me to the courtyard.”

“Are you guys talking about me?” Ciri asked as she stopped hitting the dummy.

“More like I’m talking about you. And- wait a minute! Who said you could stop practicing? You said you wanted to learn, there’s no backing out of this now! Chop, chop!” Jaskier said, smiling at her. Ciri rolled her eyes and went back to the dummy.

“...but you can stop whenever you get too cold. I’d much rather have a student, not an ice pop.”

“I’m not getting anywhere! You should give me a better example of holding a sword, like in combat.” Jaskier held out the sword with his hands, looking at her.

“I already did, but alright.”

“No, no, like in combat. Spar with Geralt, it’ll be good practice, anyways. And, I’ll be able to learn a few tricks from watching.”

“You certainly won’t just learn a few tricks just from watching us.” Jaskier said.

“Yeah, I know. But I’ll know what the result should look like more clearly.” Ciri said, trying to explain. Jaskier looked over to Geralt for help. Geralt just shrugged. The griffin sighed.

“Fine, Geralt wanna spar?”

“Sure.” He said instantly, walking over to the two. Ciri grinned eagerly.

“Sorry Ciri, not today- wait, what?” Jaskier looked at Geralt, stunned.

“Let’s spar.” Geralt repeated, picking up a wooden sword. Jaskier gave in.

“Alright, then.” He said uneasily. Jaskier flicked his sword around his wrist before getting into stance. Ciri took the hint and went over to the wall to watch. 

Jaskier approached Geralt carefully, recounting the defensive techniques he’d learned. But, chances are, Geralt had learned those tricks, too, and knew exactly how to counter them.

Jaskier’s first blow was aimed at the Geralt’s right shoulder, to knock him off balance. Jaskier barely got the hit in before Geralt dodged, spun around, and tried to slash at Jaskier.

The griffin jumped back before quickly sprinting forwards. Jaskier followed up with a gut strike using the hilt of his wooden sword. Geralt twisted his body, narrowly dodging the hilt of Jaskier’s sword, and the wolf swung his sword, aiming for Jaskier’s exposed back. But before he could hit the griffin, Jaskier rolled out of the way and jumped to his feet in one fluid motion.

They circled each other for a moment, before Jaskier threw his sword down.

“I’d rather not fight all day. We’d fight each other until we both collapsed from exhaustion.”

“Surrendering?” Geralt asked, a smile creeping up onto his lips.

“I-” Jaskier stuttered, but before he could get his point across, Geralt abandoned his sword. 

The wolf dropped to the ground, swiping his foot under’s Jaskier’s feet, throwing him to the ground. The smaller witcher yelped in surprise. The impact alone caused Jaskier’s hood to fly back.

Without missing a beat, Geralt was on him in no time. He pinned the griffin’s hands above his head, keeping his knee placed snugly in between Jaskier’s legs. Geralt used his free hand to grab Jaskier’s jaw, making him face Geralt. Jaskier looked at Geralt, his yellow eyes wide. Snowflakes fell silently from the sky, landing in their hair. 

Jaskier thought the setting sun in front of them and the snow around Geralt’s face made the other witcher look almost angelic. But that thought was quickly destroyed.

Geralt’s expression terrified Jaskier. Namely, for one sole reason: the griffin witcher wasn’t able to read it at all. There was no way to tell what the other was thinking.

“Found you.” Geralt said, giving Jaskier a lopsided grin that did things to his heart. Unfair things.

Caught up in the moment, Geralt's eyes drifted downwards, landing on Jaskier's plump lips. Geralt moved his thumb up to Jaskier's lip, gently tugging his bottom lip down.

Jaskier's face felt hot. Hell, his entire body felt hot from Geralt's advances. Jaskier was practically squirming when Geralt met his eyes. It was hot. Too hot. A whine caught in Jaskier's throat as Geralt leaned in closer and-

Ciri cleared her throat. I guess I don’t really need to try and get them together… She thought in the back of her head.

“Sorry to interrupt your moment, but I think we should head inside. It’s cold.”

With that, Geralt stood up. He didn’t meet Jaskier’s gaze. Jaskier stayed on the ground, taking in shallow breaths. The griffin's face was bright red.

“I’ll stay out here a while longer. You two head in.” Geralt said, walking away.

\---

Jaskier and Ciri went back inside. Neither one of them could feel their fingers or toes. 

They pulled up a bench and sat side by side in front of the fireplace inside, thawing out their limbs.

It has to be dark out by now. Just where is he? Jaskier thought. He frowned. Geralt figured it out, it wasn't too surprising. I knew he was going to sooner or later. But that definitely wasn't the reaction I had prepared myself for.

His mind drifted to the events from earlier. He could feel his face becoming warmer as he lifted his hand up to his lips, Geralt's hot touch lingered on them. The griffin snapped out of it when he heard Ciri sneeze.

“You ok? We should’ve practiced inside. We have dummies over there.” Jaskier said, gesturing towards the dummies in the back.”

“Yeah, I like that idea much better.”

“Once the snow has thawed you should be able to go back outside. By then, you might be ready for some one on one combat, but time will tell.” Ciri looked into the fire.

“Are you going to be there?”

“What do you mean?”

“When the snow thaws. Or will you leave?” Jaskier sighed.

“I’m not sure.”

“You shouldn't.”

“Why? Oh, aww! Ciri, will you miss me?”

“Shut up. Of course I will. The others, too. Especially Geralt.” She huffed, crossing her arms.

Jaskier laughed at her and raised a brow.

"Why Geralt?"

"A blind witcher, that's new." She said playfully, rolling her eyes.

Jaskier decided not to push her. They fell into a comfortable silence.

“Hey, Julian.” She started, examining his face. He had left his hood down since the training.

“Yes?”

“Why is your hood off now?”

“It’s pointless now.” Ciri gave him a weird look.

“I guess I just don’t understand. You said your face was marred and disgusting the other day. But, it’s really not.” She said, moving her hand up to his face and trailing across his lone scar.

“It was an excuse that wasn’t for you to hear.” Jaskier explained, allowing her to do as she pleased.

“Then who for?” Ciri asked, her eyes trailing across the griffin’s face.

“Me.” Geralt was watching the interaction from behind them. He pushed off the pillar and walked towards them, remaining as quiet as a temple mouse. Jaskier was frozen in place, his eyes locked onto the fire. Ciri retreated her hand and watched Geralt with questioning eyes.

“Go to bed, little swallow.” Jaskier said. Ciri, noticing the sudden change in demeanor, nodded and left them be in a hurry.

Once Ciri was gone, Jaskier decided to talk first. 

"Since when?" He said, voice wavering.

"Which part? I figured out that it was you the other day."

"During the foglets? Figures, you're not blind. What of the other part?"

"Today, Vesemir confirmed it for me."

Jaskier turned around at that. The fireplace glowed warmly behind him, lighting up part of his face.

"How's that?"

"Told me you traveled together. You've been a witcher for a few centuries."

It was just a word, but it stung. The way Geralt said it sounded cold. Jaskier grimaced and faced the fire. Saying Geralt felt betrayed was an understatement.

Despite his calm and collected appearance, Geralt was on the verge of breaking. After the tower, everything would remind him of the bard. Hell, just walking in silence created a sense of longing for Jaskier’s incessant ramblings. Ciri had helped him move on. And now, Jaskier was here at Kaer Morhen.

Geralt sat down beside Jaskier. The wolf looked at his face carefully, mapping out his features. Jaskier's eyes remained the same beautiful yellow Geralt had seen a while ago.

“I’m sorry.” He says in a small, wavering voice without meeting Geralt’s eyes.

“I have no excuse for lying to you, but,” Jaskier looked at Geralt, tears were brimming his eyes, "I swear, Geralt, I had my reasons."

"I missed you...” Geralt said quietly.

Jaskier rambled on, practically sobbing, “Please, just let me explain- wait, what?” Jaskier’s eyes widened.

“I said, ‘I missed you’.” Geralt said louder, sitting closer to Jaskier. He brought his hands up to Jaskier’s face and wiped his tears away. He left his hands on his face.

“Why aren’t you leaving? Why don’t you hate me?” Jaskier cried.

“I would never.”

“Don’t you want an explanation?”

“Yes, but not now.” Geralt wrapped his arms around Jaskier. The witcher sniffled, and let himself be embraced by Geralt.

After a few moments Jaskier pulled away. Geralt looked at him, confused. Jaskier wiped his wet eyes, placed his hands on the back of Geralt’s neck, and pulled him into a kiss.

Geralt’s hands found Jaskier’s waist and brought him closer, deepening the kiss.

Jaskier pulled away after a while. Geralt gave him a worried look.

“We should turn in. It’s late. I’ll explain everything in the morning.”

“Hm. See you tomorrow, Jas.” Geralt stood up to leave.

“Wait! Um,” Jaskier looked down at his lap, “could you escort me back? I don’t really think I’ll be able to find my room. It’s supposed to be below Eskel’s, but I don’t have any idea where that is. Not to mention I bet Lambert is already tired of helping me find-”

“Jas, you’re rambling.” Jaskier flushed. God, it felt good to be called that again. Jaskier thought.

“O-oh, sorry about that.”

“You know, normally witchers don’t take up escort jobs.” Geralt grinned.

“...but you’ll make an exception for me?” Jaskier asked hopefully. The wolf dragged Jaskier to his feet.

“Depends on the payment.” Geralt said, eyeing Jaskier.

“The rumors are true, witchers really don’t lift a finger if they don’t get something out of it.”

“You said it yourself, so, witcher, what’s my reward?”

“Anything you want from my room. You can cash it in whenever you want.” The other witcher raised his eyebrow.

“I’ll take you up on that offer.”

\---

“‘Night.” Geralt said from the doorway.

“Goodnight.” Jaskier yawned as he sipped out of his boots and shirt and buried himself in the covers. Geralt watched him before be began to close the door silently.

Jaskier sighed and sat up, facing Geralt’s back.

“Sleep with me.” Jaskier deadpanned, his face serious. Geralt turned his head to the side.

“I never took you to be so bold.”

Jaskier laughed softly at this. Geralt complied and walked over to the bed, Jaskier tugged the witcher to the bed when he was in reach.

“Naughty, witcher.” Jaskier teased. “Just sleep by me.”

Geralt shrugged and peeled off his shirt. “W-wait, you don’t need to-”

“Wouldn’t be fair if just one of us is shirtless.” Geralt replied playfully as he kicked off his boots and slipped under the sheets.

Geralt pressed his warm body against Jaskier’s back, resting his head just above the griffin’s. Their feet were tangled together under the covers. Jaskier hummed in defeat.

He had been trying to tease the other witcher, but it seemed to backfire quickly.

“Stupid, handsome witcher.” Jaskier whispered under his breath.

“I prefer ‘stupidly handsome’.” Geralt said before kissing the top of Jaskier’s head.

“‘Night, witcher.” Geralt said before drifting off to sleep with Jaskier in his arms. Jaskier felt butterflies swarm around in his stomach. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> did i mention i suck at fight scenes? bc i do :')
> 
> comment what you thought :3 i love reading your comments !


	9. talk to me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> some talking

Lambert and Eskel circled each other, their swords raised. Eskel strikes at him, but Lambert parried, and rammed his shoulder into Eskel’s chest. 

The witcher stumbled back from the impact. Lambert gestured towards Eskel before talking.

“There. Basic parry. You try.” Lambert said, looking over at Ciri. 

She was standing at the wall, sword on her shoulder. They were inside today, it was far too cold to be outside long. So, they decided to train inside from now on.

“With who?”

“The dummy.” Lambert said, pointing towards the dummy.

“How can I parry a dummy? Let me go against you or Eskel.” She whined.

“Get creative, kid. Don’t want you to hurt yourself trying to budge us out of the way.”

“I could just do the sword parry!” Lambert looked over to Eskel, wordlessly asking for his opinion. 

Eskel just nodded.

“Fine. Worst that can happen to you is a couple of splinters, anyways.”

“No, bruises maybe. Just don’t hurt her, Lambert.” Eskel said, before quickly changing his mind. “Actually, I should go against her.”

Lambert shrugged, indifferent, and walked over to the wall.

“Ready?” Eskel asked. Ciri nodded.

The witcher stiked at Ciri at a moderate speed, allowing her to parry the wooden sword away. She smiled brightly when she parried Eskel’s sword.

“Ha! I did it!” She cheered, raising her sword up in victory.

“Hardly something to celebrate…” Lambert said under his breath, yet he was smiling at her antics.

“Good job, kiddo.” Eskel said, grinning down at her.

Vesemir approached them. He looked upset.

“Oh no... Vesemir's got that look.” Ciri said under her breath.

“What'd you expect? Skipped out on his teachings yesterday.” Lambert said.

Vesemir stopped in front of her before talking.

“Anything to say for yourself, young lady?” He said, crossing his arms.

“I'm very sorry, Uncle Vesemir.” Ciri looked down.

“Young blood craves action, I understand that. But when you fight a beast, knowledge counts as much as your silver sword. At the very least, you ought to be able to tell a ghoul from an alghoul-” Vesemir started, waving his finger at Ciri, but was interrupted by the little girl.

"by markings, like unto the panthera tigris that in Zerrikania dwells, and the sickly paleness of its visage." Ciri finished, looking up at the old wolf.

“Hmm. So you did read the chapter. Still, you should've asked if-”

“But you were asleep, Uncle Vesemir.” She said in a condescending tone.

“So you did the reading. Why not admit it right off?” Eskel asked Ciri, gesturing towards her.

“"Never pounce on an advantage as soon as it appears. Wait till it stands to have maximum effect." Uncle Vesemir's words.” Ciri said, grinning.

“Well, you're a quick study. Quick, but mischievous.” Vesemir said, shaking a finger at Ciri. “We’ve talked enough. Lambert, Eskel, go find the others. I’ll stay here with our young lady.”

The two witchers nodded before heading off, leaving their practice swords hanging on the wall.

\---

“Julian, wake up!” Lambert yelled, practically kicking Jaskier’s door open.

“Lambert, don’t you think you could tone it down a bit?” Eskel asked quietly.

“Bastard’s a heavy sleeper. Won’t wake up even if a goddamn werewolf was howling outside his door.”

Eskel shook his head and gave up. Lambert was impossible, yet he found the other witcher strangely endearing at times.

“Hmf.” Jaskier mumbled as he sat up, rubbing his eyes. Lambert walked inside, while Eskel waited in the doorway.

“Come on, sleeping beauty. Think you’ve had enough beauty sleep.” Lambert said, crossing his arms.

Geralt sat up from behind Jaskier. 

“Don’t think beauty sleep will make me any prettier.” Geralt said, glaring at Lambert.

Eskel closed his eyes while pinching the bridge of his nose. He turned around, trying to give them some privacy.

“Vesemir wants you guys to come down. Come on Lambert.”

“Oh my god… found the damned lovebirds.” Lambert said, a shit-eating grin on his face. “Seems like you’ve got some explaining to do, Jules.” He gestured towards the half naked witcher in his bed.

“Later.” Eskel said.

Eskel quickly grabbed Lambert by the collar of his shirt and dragged him out of the room.

Jaskier and Geralt could hear muffled voices behind the door before they left. Jaskier listened as the footsteps receded down the hall.

Jaskier groaned and fell back onto the bed, putting his hands behind his head..

“What a way to wake up…” The griffin mumbled.

His griffin medallion felt cold against his chest. Wordlessly, Geralt reached over and gently lifted Jaskier’s medallion up, examining it. Jaskier raised an eyebrow at him.

“This is definitely going to take some time to get used to.” Geralt said, mostly to himself. He let the medallion fall back down onto Jaskier’s scarred chest.

The wolf felt a mixture of relief and worry. He kept telling himself that Jaskier could handle himself, he was a witcher, had been longer than Geralt, but the itching fear of losing him still creeped up on him.

He needed to know what happened to Jaskier.

That, and the question he’d always held in the back of his mind, the question he wanted to ask the most:

Jaskier, just what do you think of me?

Geralt told himself that he never brought it up because of timing. But he knew deep down that wasn’t the case.

It was because he was afraid.

He was afraid that he’d hear an answer different from what he hoped for.

Little did he know, Jaskier was scared of the same thing.

“What are you thinking about?”

“You. I’m worried about you. Especially after those foglets. You jumped over the wall without thinking twice. What if there were more? What if I wasn’t there to help?”

“Geralt, we could sit here all day throwing around ‘what ifs’. I understand now how you felt back at the slyzards, you thought I was just a human bard. But I’m not, Geralt. I’ve been doing these things for a long time now, sure, I’ve gotten a little rusty, but that doesn’t mean I’m completely helpless in a fight.” 

Jaskier sighed. 

“Although, I’ll admit that I should think things through more… But I knew enough that foglets that close to the fortress wasn’t a very comforting thought.”

“Hm. Fine.” The wolf said, turning to face Jaskier. “You have some explaining to do.”

“Some is an understatement. Ask away, that is, unless you rather me tell you the full story, embellishments included.”

“I’ll ask the questions, think I got the gist of it.” Jaskier hummed. “But first, turn around.”

Jaskier raised his eyebrow.

“Now who’s bold?” The witcher joked before sitting up and turning around, putting his back on display. Geralt reached out and trailed down a particular scar that resembled a few horizontal gauges in his back. Jaskier shivered at the touch.

“...He told you, didn’t he?” Jaskier asked, looking down.

“About Honorton? Yes. Thought I could get your side of the story.” Jaskier sighed.

“Not much else to say. Sometimes there’s monsters, sometimes there’s money. Rarely both. Farmers said there was gold in the barn, tucked away so the baron’s men wouldn’t find it. I was foolish. Went off the handle.”

“Dangerous weapons, pitchforks. At close quarters, that is. When I was younger I was stabbed with one, right in the gut. Almost died.”

“Not a pleasant feeling, is it?”

“Why didn’t you kill everyone?”

“Couldn’t... Regained some rationality and stopped before-” Jaskier stopped himself. “You get the point.”

Jaskier turned around and leaned against the backboard. He gestured towards Geralt, urging him to get his explanation.

“Why were you in hiding?”

“I killed a witcher that turned out to be a friend of a friend. In fact, that was actually when I met Lambert. The witcher I killed, Jad Karadin, killed Lambert’s friend, Aiden. So, I helped him get revenge. Lots of witcher-killing in this story.” Jaskier laughed humorlessly.

Geralt almost looked surprised.

“You’ve been busy. Who’d you piss off?” Jaskier sat up and leaned against the headboard.

“My closest friend, well, ex-closest friend, Kaladin. He was pissed, hunted me down with the intention to kill me. I ran because that way we both lived. I was foolish for thinking that’d work.”

“Explain the glamour.” Geralt gestured towards him.

“Used it to hide from Kaladin better. Went to a witch Filavandrel told me about. She cursed me, making so the second that chain with the spell on it came off, that I’d die.”

“The tower. The chain came off, didn’t it?” Jaskier looked down at his hands in his lap.

“Yes. I went there to face Kaladin after the slyzards. He knew of the curse somehow and used it against me. He died there.”

“How the hell did you survive? I- I saw you there.” Geralt admitted. The griffin whipped his head up at Geralt, his eyes wide.

If Jaskier heard right, his voice wavered when he said the last part.

“You saw me?”

“Yes. You were bleeding out. I- I was scared, Jas. I thought you were close to death when I checked your pulse.”

“Yes, and no. I was dying, but the pulse was normal.” Geralt held the bridge of his nose.

“I could’ve helped you. I left you for dead.”

“No. You didn’t know. It was my fault for not telling you. I was scared, scared that you would hate me.” Jaskier admitted, tears began to fall down his face.

“Jas, I could never hate you.” Geralt placed his hand on Jaskier’s thigh and rubbed small circles with his thumb, reassuring him. The griffin sniffled before continuing.

“Lambert found me, gave me some potions and helped me get back on my feet. After traveling for a while, we went to Kaer Morhen. He said you wouldn’t be here. Guess he was wrong.”

“Were you planning on keeping your identity from me forever?”

“No! Well, yes. But no? I don’t know. I panicked when I saw you, my mind instantly went to the worst possible scenarios.” Jaskier held his head in his hands. “I thought it was for the better.”

“Jas… why the hell would you think that?”

“I don’t know! I just thought that you’d be better off thinking I was dead instead knowing that- that I lied to you for years...” Jaskier said into his hands. 

“It-It was hard, Geralt. It was so hard not to run over to you and throw my arms around your neck. God, I’m so stupid!”

Geralt pulled Jaskier into his chest and placed a kiss on his head. 

“Don’t berate yourself. But, you should’ve said something.”

“I know, I know. I just didn’t want you to hate me or never talk to me again. I wouldn’t be able to live with that.”

“I don’t hate you, Jas. I’ve just missed you, missed you more than anything.”

They sat there, holding each other and enjoying one another's company.

Jaskier felt as if a huge weight was lifted from his shoulders. He was happy, happy with how it went, happy that Geralt was still here with him, and happy that everything was revealed.

If only I told him sooner. Told him the second I saw his stupid face.

He wished he could stay in Geralt’s warm embrace forever.

“You were wrong, you know.” Jaskier looked up at Geralt, confused. “Back at the slyzard nest, you were wrong. I do care about how you feel.”

“Geralt, let’s not pick at old wounds.” Jaskier warned.

“No.”

“I know we didn’t exactly leave on the best of terms, but we-”

“Did you really believe that? That I don’t care about how you feel? Because I care so fucking much, Jas.”

Jaskier opened his mouth to defend himself, but Geralt spoke up.

“Tell me something.” Geralt unwrapped his arms from around Jaskier. 

The wolf lifted one of Jaskier’s hands up, and placed it over his heart. Jaskier’s hand warmed up Geralt’s entire chest, as if his body was yearning for the other’s touch.

Geralt covered Jaskier’s hand with his own, his huge hand practically covering the griffin’s entire hand.

“Tell me how you feel.” Geralt said, his voice just above a whisper.

Jaskier gave him a questioning look before realization fell on his face. Geralt’s heartbeat was fast, faster than normal.

“Um, please tell me you’re not going to have a heart attack-” Jaskier said jokingly, trying to escape the situation, but he stopped himself when he saw Geralt’s expression.

The wolf watched him, completely serious. It was almost desperate.

“Do- do you mean…?” Jaskier asked slowly, watching Geralt’s face for any signs of rejection.

“Yes.*” Jaskier looked down, biting his lip. The griffin took Geralt’s hands in his own, lacing their fingers together. The griffin was looking anywhere but Geralt’s face.

“...I love you.” Jaskier said quietly, but Geralt caught it. 

The second the words left Jaskier’s lips, the griffin wanted to bury his burning face in the covers and hide, but he couldn’t. Geralt held onto his hands as if his life depended on it.

“I love you, Jas.” Geralt said adoringly, giving him a lopsided smile that tugged on Jaskier’s heartstrings. 

Jaskier leaned his head against the other witcher’s chest. He let out a complacent sigh when he felt Geralt’s lips press against his head. 

\---

“So even you knew all of this, and neither of you told me?” Eskel asked.

They were in Eskel’s room. Lambert had told Eskel that he would explain what was going on between the two when they left Jaskier’s room. So, he did.

Lambert ended up telling him everything from when he first met Aiden all the way to the present. It took awhile. 

“What do you mean ‘even’ I knew about it?”

“No, it’s just that normally I’d expect you to know about a secret affair last.”

“Thanks. Appreciate how oblivious you think I am.”

“No, just reminding you that you are oblivious.”

“If I’m oblivious then you’re the fucking Queen of Toussaint-” Eskel rolled his eyes and tugged Lambert forwards, meeting his lips with his.

“Like that.” He said, nudging past Lambert and walking out, leaving a stunned Lambert in the room.

“I’m going back to Vesemir. See you later Lambert.” Eskel called out from the hall.

Lambert stood in Eskel’s room, mouth slightly agape and face flushed. He snapped out of it.

“H-hey! Fucking asshole! Come back here you..!” He yelled after the other witcher, running to catch up to him.

\---

Vesemir was talking avidly to Ciri about some herbs and their properties on a bench when the four witchers returned. The old wolf stood up, acknowledging them. 

Books were scattered across the table. They had been studying.

“You boys get lost? It’s been ages.” He said, crossing his arms.

“Something like that.” Geralt said as he looked over at Lambert and Eskel.

“Likewise.” Eskel answered.

“Hm.” Vesemir gestured towards Ciri. “Geralt, Julian, train with Ciri. And you two, have you cleared out the armory, yet?”

Lambert groaned. “No.” Eskel said.

“Then get to it. Might teach you not to touch my things.” Vesemir scolded, addressing the last part to Lambert. Seemed like he was mad about the hat from a few days ago.

“Yes, master.” Lambert called out sarcastically before Eskel dragged him away. Vesemir said something about fixing a wall, and left the three.

Jaskier grinned at Ciri and sat down beside her.

“Did he bore you to death with those etchings yet?” He asked playfully, casting a look of disdain over to the books on the table.

“No, but he’s certainly getting there.” Ciri answered, grinning.

“Huh. Well, enough talk. Pick up your sword.” Geralt said, reaching for a wooden sword mounted on the wall.

\---

They trained most of the day away. Ciri learned some footwork and tried to spar with Jaskier. The griffin won, naturally.

Geralt and Jaskier were walking up to their rooms.

“Hey, Jas. Think I could cash in that reward of mine?”

“Huh? Oh, that. Sure, come inside. Look around, take whatever you like.” Jaskier gestured into his room.

Jaskier stepped inside, leading Geralt into his room.

“Anything I want in here, huh?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Jaskier said dismissively, watching Geralt look around the room. The witcher’s gaze landed on Jaskier and he grinned wolfishly before approaching him.

“What?” Jaksier asked.

“I’ll take this…” Geralt growled as he lifted Jaskier up by the waist. Jaskier yelped as Geralt threw him to the bed and crawled on top of him.

Gerlat laced their fingers together.

“God, I love you…” Jaskier trailed off.

“Say it again...” Geralt pushed Jaskier down onto the bed, placing their interlocked hands at the side of Jaskier’s head. The wolf began kissing up Jaskier’s neck.

Jaskier let out a shaky breath when he started to nip at the exposed skin. 

“Any day. I love you so much, it’s practically unfair.” Jaksier said airly.

Geralt left his neck and met Jaskier’s eyes. The wolf raised a dark brow. “Any day?” Jaskier nodded fervently.

Geralt bent down, his lips against Jaskier’s cheek, brushing it lightly. And still, that light touch sent shivers through Jaskier’s nerves, shivers that made his whole body tremble. 

"If you want me to stop, tell me now," he whispered. When Jaskier said nothing, Geralt brushed his mouth against the hollow of his temple. 

"I’ve loved you, Jas," Geralt said, tracing the line of Jaskier’s cheekbone. 

"for years." His lips were against Jaskier’s.

Jaskier reached up and pulled the other witcher down to him. 

He kissed him gently, but it wasn’t gentleness Jaskier wanted. Not now, not after all this time. He gripped Geralt’s shoulders, pulling him harder against him. 

Geralt groaned low in his throat, and then his arms circled Jaskier, gathering the griffin against him. They rolled over on the bed, still kissing.

Jaskier straddled Geralt’s hips as he slowly moved his lips downwards, kissing and nipping at Geralt’s chest.

The griffin scooted backwards, eyeing Geralt with carnal desire.

“Don’t start what you can’t finish, Jas.” Geralt growled. Jaskier bit his bottom lip before tugging the rest of the witcher’s clothes off.

Jaskier bent down and licked Geralt's dick before taking him into his mouth, he could feel the witcher get harder inside his mouth, and Jaskier began to bob his head up and down. His tongue was long and soft and seemed to wrap itself around Geralt.

Geralt clenched his teeth, groaning from the sight of Jaskier alone. The wolf gripped Jaskier’s hair, urging him to go faster. Jaskier complied.

After Geralt came, Jaskier pulled off of him and swallowed.

Jaskier smiled cheekily at him, a dribble of leftover cum at the side of his lips.

His patience was gone. Geralt gripped Jaskier’s hips and sat up, bringing him into his lap. His hot hands moved up to the hem of his pants, tugging them down forcefully.

Jaskier yelped when he felt the witcher’s oil-slick finger opening him up, but soon found himself moving down on Geralt’s finger.

Geralt’s lips kissed up Jaskier’s neck, when he reached his face, he placed gentle kisses to Jaskier’s lips.

Electricity shot through his nerves as Geralt pushed another finger in. His spine arched. Jaskier was a moaning mess by the time Geralt finished, removing his fingers.

Jaskier used his hand to slip Geralt inside him. 

Once he had Geralt deep inside, Jaskier began a slow rotation of his hips. As he moved, the edges of the rumpled covers caressed Geralt’s naked thighs.

Gripping his hips, Geralt thrust his hips upwards, drawing out moans from the griffin.

Jaskier came. After a few more thrusts, Geralt did too. Jaskier rested his head on the wolf’s shoulder, taking in deep breaths.

He wrapped his arms around Jaskier, holding him close. 

After a few moments, Jaskier rolled off Geralt, laying his head across Geralt’s naked abdomen. 

The wolf placed his hand on Jaskier’s head, running his fingers through his soft hair.

Jaskier hummed at this.

“I love you…” Jaskier said before drifting off.

Geralt stopped his motions and looked down at Jaskier before smiling softly.

“I love you, too, Jaskier.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> haha had to sneak some eskel/lambert in there
> 
> reached the end of the fic, now what?
> 
> another fic maybe? some oneshots? maybe a different ship? idk you tell me, im bored as hell in quarantine and wanna write some fics :)
> 
> comment what you thought ! :33

**Author's Note:**

> i found witcher jaskier fics and there aren't a lot, so i'm adding another one. i'll update everyday unless something comes up. let me know what you think of it so far in the comments, i want to make this fic l o n g so hang in there lol


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